The Abundance of White
by Rin-Reiko
Summary: Newly-released mental patient, Bakura, is living with his lover, Marik, in what seems to be misunderstood bliss. But how long can they stay together when no one else wants them to be? Marik/ Yami Bakura. Rated M. Title and summary are crap, please read.
1. Imitation and Flattery

Ok so. Half of this is just an experiment to see how well I can figure out Faniction's upload policies... so far, kinda confusing. But, I guess I managed it all ok. Um, for now, the title is kinda crap, I really couldn't think of anything good on the spot so I may change it later when a better idea strikes me.

This is a Yu-gi-oh yaoi fanfiction. Yes, you have all been warned. I do not OWN anything from Yu-gi-oh or it's creator, but I wish I did because then I'd make sooooo many changes. Especially with shippings. XD I do own this story though. It came from my brain. Just the characters didn't... but my representation of them is all mine! MINE! Ahaha!

The main pairing is Marik/Yami Bakura. The second prominent couple is Joey/Mai. But that comes later.

Rated M for mature. In fact, I may have to upload a later chapter to a different website because of possible X ratings...

You're welcome.

Anyway, if you find this and read it, enjoy! I apologize in advance for any drastic changes I may make on the location of the story, its title, or anything else the computer gods command of me. Remember, comments are always welcome, but flames will be returned tenfold.

- Rin Reiko

_He's never been easy to love. But then again, I wouldn't expect him to be. _

"Marik! Stop staring into space and get over here!" he barked, his cold gaze flashing with impatience as he carried a large brown box in through the front door. I scrambled over to help him, my bare feet navigating over the sparse clutter of the small living room we share as I took the other end of the package in hand.

_It's not in his nature to make anyone's life easy, and he wouldn't be himself if he were any kinder._

With a synchronized grunt, we lifted the load and shuffled it over to the low coffee table, setting it on top with a satisfied thud. Shaking out my hands, I watched while he wordlessly dragged the rest of his items inside the apartment: a couple bags of groceries, his favorite black overcoat, and some dry cleaning he picked up, which he immediately draped over the back of an old armchair with the coat in an exhausted fashion. His lean, angular face was set in a tedious look as he hauled the groceries off to the kitchen, the naturally white shimmer of his hair whisking out of my sight as abruptly as it had appeared.

_And although it hurts, and he'll never change, I simply can't live without him._

I glanced at the frayed box and sighed.

_The problem is, he knows I can't either. _

"Bakura!" I called, still eyeing the large brown intrusion curiously. It had no symbols, no descriptions, nothing. Not even a _"Careful: Fragile"_ warning. "What's all this about?"

A growl answered me, strained from his bending down to put something in the fridge. "Can't you at least wait 'til I'm done here? It's not like you're helping me."

True.

So I waited, sitting on the couch in front of the box. It occurred to me recently that I was getting better at giving him space. Used to be that I'd come back at him relentlessly, with all sorts of excuses and clarifications and accusations and words, words, words, words, words. It drove him nuts.

Took me damn near forever to understand that he hates words.

And he's still with me, why?

Finally, the white head emerged from around the corner, wiping off his hands on his dark blue jeans. I always loved him in those jeans. I smiled, giving him a quick mental glance over as he approached me and the box. He didn't catch it though as he folded his arms and circled around it once.

"So?..." I ventured, after a moment of silence, taking a break from ogling his movements under the denim.

"Oh right, the box thing," he replied casually, just now remembering my earlier question. He does that a lot with me. "Well, I guess it's a present of some sorts."

I blinked. "For me?"

He flicked his finger on my head, scolding me. "No dummy, for me." He scowled, fishing out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and tossing it on my lap. "Was waiting at the landlord's with this attached."

I rubbed my head to soothe the throb and looked at the note. It had the Warden's seal on the top of the thick paper, now lined with crinkles and folds, and was typed professionally, as these sorts of things are. It read:

To: Ryou Bakura

From: Domino City Infirmary and Mental Health Division, Warden Maximillion Pegasus, Esq.

We believe in providing our patients, both past and present, with any necessary materials for the benefit of their well-being and overall health. Please accept this care package as a token of our good faith and congratulations on completing our course. There is no charge for the item(s), and we hope you will find them useful in case of an emergency.

Best wishes,

...llon… gasus and… . pany

And from there the last part was illegible, seeing as some form of liquid had smudged out the parting line. I looked at Bakura with another sigh.

"You didn't spit on it, did you?  
"What, you thought I would cry instead?" he scoffed, still encircling the box. "Feh… like I would have any tears to spare on that place. The Clinic has always been a joke, and still is."

That's what he called it. The Clinic. Which is probably why they're still sending him care packages. "Is that why you dragged their present in here then?" I quipped, tossing the rejected note into a small wastebasket. "If you hate them, just dump it."

He gave me a look at that. Patting the top of the box lightly, dusting it off, he finished his circling to stand before me between the couch and coffee table. "If I left the thing in the office, the landlord would be on my ass until we took it. If I dumped it, someone else would find it, and who knows what kinds of things he sent me. But if I keep it…."

"You'll just keep complaining about how it reminds you of that place. Because we both know you're not going to use it." I added, flipping through a magazine from on the floor. Usually, I would show him I was paying attention, but it was one of those nothings that he likes to obsess over, and I think he knew that too. Even though he stole my magazine right after.

"No. If I keep it, I can keep him off my back." He replied, sitting beside me and propping his legs up on the inch of table around the box, magazine on the floor once again. I leaned back into the cushions, just waiting for him to explain. He likes to be dramatic sometimes. "Pegasus is just an attention whore with too much power. If he sees that I kept his damn present, he won't have to send me more. If I don't use it… " he smirked. "It'll be like an anonymous kick in the nuts to his bullshit."

If I didn't find his smirk so hot, I would've called him childish.

"Like he'd know if you threw it out anyway…" was all I said, giving him a sideways glance. "I doubt Pegasus cares about the package. All he wants is to remind you that even though a piece of paper says you're sane, he still thinks of you as crazy."

His smile thinned at that, bristling with cold. Mentally, I was kicking myself. I knew I shouldn't have said anything… knew I should've just let him have his moment… but once again, I couldn't help myself. He stood up and headed to the kitchen again, his voice trailing back to me over his shoulder.

"You just don't get it, Marik."

A year or two ago, I would've felt the jab in my chest. But I guess after so many years of knowing someone, their habits start to roll off your shoulder, leaving only a numbing feeling behind. I gazed at the box before me, feet resting on the edge of the table and mimicking his earlier position. I wasn't worried about his mood; he might hold a grudge, but it could be easily warmed over with his favorite dinner and some more ego-stroking. His pride was dinged, but not wounded- an easy error to correct.

At the moment, the box was a far more ominous figure on my mind.

I stood to pick up the dry cleaning and put it away in our closet. Once he'd migrated from the kitchen, I'd start on that apology dinner, maybe even give him a shoulder massage like he likes. The steps it takes to nurse his ego back to health surprise me in their simplicity, how rudimentary and routine they've become over the years of trial and error. How adept I could be at molding his mood back into whatever shape I desired. I sighed, thinking about this.

_He's never been easy to love, but he sure is getting easier to imitate_.


	2. Favorite Color

Yaay! I figured this thing out! Ha, that didn't take long...

Well, here's Chapter 2. I also realized that the hikari name for Marik is Malik... but seeing as this is set in another form of reality, I'm calling him Marik. Because I think that sounds better. Just like how Bakura's first name is still Ryou in here even though it's the yami personality.

I just love to be confusing, don't I?

Well the title line is in this chapter, in case you were wondering just where the hell I got it from. Haha. I just may keep it after all, but you never know.

Once again, I do not own anything except my own imagination. Read the first disclaimer if you want more details.

-Rin Reiko

---------------------------------

It was three years ago, if I remember correctly. Walking up the steps to the Domino City Infirmary through the newly autumn rain, my black boots making wet scuffling noises across the concrete as I ascended. I remember being late to meet my sister and hoping she wouldn't be sore. It was her first month working there as a psychiatrist and we were going out to lunch to celebrate. Or, we should have been, but traffic kept me away, even though I was on a motorcycle.

I'd been to the other asylums she'd worked for a couple times, but none had struck me the way this one had. Walking through the door, it was like I'd stepped into the light at the end of the tunnel, only to be disappointed by its lack of color.

Like most infirmaries, everything in it was white and nothing was cluttered. I think I hated that the most about these places: the abundance of white. White walls, white floors, white florescent lights, white scrubs, and white countertops all surrounded me, staring back in their cold and daunting fashion. Even the receptionist's hair was white, something I'd never seen before on a person his age. He looked to be only in his twenties...

Approaching the front desk, I inspected him closer and stopped breathing. His long, layered hair was, indeed, white, and fell loosely down his back and shoulders, draped over his matching white hospital scrubs as he sat. As if cued by the squeaking fanfare of my rain-battered boots, his eyes promptly tore themselves from his reading and drilled into mine. Suppressing the sudden wave of hormones coursing through my system, I forced myself to stand firm, face-to-face with the most intense brown irises I'd ever seen. Angled and open and unwavering, they analyzed me slowly and with great judgment. I might as well have been looking into a wolf's stare for the meticulous way they absorbed me.

Before I knew it, he was talking.

"I….W-What?...." I stuttered, clearing my throat and paying attention to the rest of his face. "Sorry… I'm a bit distracted today…"

"I asked if I could help you," he repeated clearly in a calm voice, without moving a muscle or averting his eyes. His Japanese carried a British accent, a unique combination that enthralled me the more I listened to it. He rested his cheek lightly on one hand, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "It seems you may need more help than I thought."

What was that supposed to mean? I was still too lost in his eyes to make sense of it, so I just replied, "Um…. I…. I'm looking for my sister…"

"Which ward is she in?" he questioned, those eyes still focused on me. Either he took his job seriously, or I had something in my teeth. Both possibilities were making me nervous.

"I… uh… she's not a patient…" I clarified, looking anywhere but back into his eyes. "She's a doctor here…. Ishizu Ishtar. We're supposed to meet for lunch."

"Ah, Ishizu-san…" he repeated in a casually fond tone.

A nervous panic hit me. _Were they friends? Friends of friends? I never see her often, so they could know each other…. maybe she could introduce me…. c'mon Marik, get a grip. You're here for lunch, remember?_

"She's with a patient, I believe." He concluded simply.

"Oh…. they're wrapping up then?" I wrung my hands mentally. Had she thought I ditched, and went back to work? I felt terrible to think that, since it had been my idea to celebrate…

"I'm not sure. But I think it'll end very soon either way…" he said with a slight grin, folding his hands under his chin. I caught his playful eyes and raised an eyebrow of my own. Had I heard that right?

"Oh…" was all I could find to say. I could feel my nerves beginning to betray me, the urge to fidget rising. I never was very good at flirting, or whatever this was. But he remained as cool and collected as ever, still gazing at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. It unnerved and aroused me all at once.

"I… could…. Is there a reason you're staring at me?..." I managed to ask, my face flushing a bit at the request. He blinked in reply, as if I'd asked him what he thought about the rain.

"Because I want to."

Before I could look at him in question, a familiar voice was heard from down the hall, shouting in a mix of panic and frustration. The clacking of heels announced her arrival, although we both already seemed to know who she was.

"BAKURA!! WHERE ARE YOU?" Ishizu cried, walking briskly through the sterile building. Her pretty Egyptian features where contorted into determined aggravation, searching around for him with her sharp eyes. The man in front of me seemed to turn back to his paperwork, finally, his hair curtaining his face from her gaze. I wondered why he was hiding, but waved my sister over.

"Ishizu nii-sama! What happened?" I asked, after she saw me and smiled a little, walking over. "Who's Bakura?' The receptionist, who a minute ago was so mesmerizing, kept hiding his face from us.

She peeked over my shoulder and her eyes went wide. "HIM!" she pointed, answering my question. The sexy albino jumped and rolled the chair away from her cry as she approached him, leaving me to watch the unfolding chaos. Pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, she dragged him out of the chair and paged for a team of nurses to help her. The static of the device clicked silent as the white-haired Bakura struggled for freedom in her surprisingly firm grasp.

"Don't give me that crap," came the scolding voice of my sister, who'd always been very sweet and demure in my experience. I'd never seen her actually reprimand a patient before, and was still very surprised that HE of all people had been one. "I wouldn't have to do this if you'd just stay put for our meetings, Bakura-san!"

His brown eyes flashed at her, his body settling down. "I was doing the receptionist a _favor_, in case that matters to you," he defended plainly, gazed fixed on her now. "She stepped out for lunch and didn't have a replacement."

Ishizu laughed at that. "Please, Bakura. Like she would ask _you_ to fill in for her. She's still scared of the _last_ time you were in this room! And that still doesn't explain why you wandered off!" Her face turned pleading at this note. "We left the restraints off you this time for good behavior. Don't go ruining that now…."

Bakura paused slightly before nodding. "Very well. I'll behave."

She sighed gratefully and released her grip, taking his wrist this time to lead him down the hall. To me she added, "Marik-chan, I'm so sorry about all this! I'll meet you out here in about 15 minutes, I promise!"

"Go ahead, take your time." I assured her, waving them off. "I'm in no hurry."

She nodded in relief and walked Bakura back down the hall, internally grumbling to herself. I watched them go in a sort of awe, arms folded gently in thought. That's when Bakura turned to look back at me, a very obvious grin on his handsome face, winking as they disappeared together down the hall and back out of my sight.

From then on, white became my new favorite color.


	3. A Biker's Dream

Yeah, chapter title is crap, I know, I know. But hey, not every section has poetic meaning to it.

So, we all know that Domino City is fictional, but for the purpose of the story, I've located it in Sapporo, Hokkaido. Which is in Japan, for those who don't know. You'll find out their official address later.

Once again, I own nothing, yadda yadda yadda.

-Rin Reiko

--------------------------------

Working on bikes was about the only thing that always made sense to me, that never got too complicated to fix. And if you messed up royally, you could simply start over from scratch and the only thing you'd ever waste was time or money. It was never chaotic, or stressful, or painful to the point where you wanted to tear your own heart out and eat it.

Plus, the guys I work with are cool, so it's more fun than anything else.

I've been into bikes since I was little, living in the backward throes of Egypt. The Ishtar family was apparently a noble one, dating back to the great influences of the empire, ruling alongside kings and queens and being buried in the valley of the dead with them. My father liked to keep that legacy alive, drilling into his children their privileged roots and reminding them of their background, even though its political weight had long since died with the rest of our ancestors. He'd even gone so far as to ban us from playing with the other "common" children in our small town, forbidding us to go to the city for any reason, afraid it would taint our heritage.

Our mother had no say in it simply because she had died giving birth to me.

By the time I was 14, we (my sister, half brother, and I) became sick of our father's tyrannical approach to parenting. Once, while the eldest, Odion, kept guard during father's daily nap, Ishizu and I snuck out to take a day trip into town. She, being 16, lead the way and kept track of time, determined to have fun and still get back home before he woke up. And that's when I first saw it.

A motorcycle.

Well actually, the TV image of a motorcycle, but you get the picture. The man riding it was dressed extremely bad-ass, with rock music playing behind him and the wind blowing in his long blonde hair, and I just knew _'that was me'_. I could feel the pull of the road and the rush of the wind, the purr of the motor before I even knew what one looked like. A whole new world opened up to me that day, and I've been hooked ever since. Needless to say, that day ended pretty badly when my father found out about our excursion, but the seeds of my desire had been sown, and I knew what I was born to do in this world.

"Marik-chama!" came the ever-playful cry of Joey, one of the mechanics I work with. He approached me with about a liter of transmission fluid on his person, his blonde hair slicked out at odd angles with the grease. I rolled out from under my bike to look at him, wondering what he could want now. "Have you got the needle jets for the Kawasaki carburetor?"

"Yeah, they should've come in with the last shipment," I replied, sitting up and running my fingers through my own blonde hair, streaking it with black dirt marks. "The NINJA series right?"

"Yeah. The 2007 parts."

"2007? Oh shit! We got the wrong year!" I exclaimed, standing up in a panic.

"_What? _Fool, what year DID you get?" asked Joey, following me over to the unfinished bike. "You know I gotta get this thing done by Monday!"

"Yeah yeah, I know," I confirmed, looking at the parts. Didn't seem to be so bad. The needles were too small for this model, but we had some others in the same size from the other bikes. I told him they would do in case the parts didn't get shipped in time. I hated to cut corners like that, but this wasn't a custom job so as long as it worked, no one would care.

"Oh c'mon Marik. We all know that swapping parts is fine for your own piece of junk, but this is a customer! What if he does notice?"

"Joey, do you think this Suzuki-san working for Domino City Bank sounds like the type of guy who would dismantle his own motorcycle carburetor just to see if we did anything wrong?" I raised my eyebrow at him as he grew silent. "Exactly."

"Ok fine fine. But it ain't my fault if a complaint comes back from this guy. I'm blaming it all on you." He stuck out his tongue.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "And when has this store ever gotten a complaint, Joey?"

"…..Aw shuddup, man." He murmured and continued working on the bike, obviously swearing at me in his head. I laughed and went back to my own station, lying back down on the rolling board again. Joey was always good for a pick-me-up.

But then the phone rang.

Groaning, I sat up again and went into the office. I was never going to get any work done before lunch at this rate! Picking it up, I answered blandly, "Domino's Road Hoggers, Marik speaking."

"…… Give me the rod."

I blinked at that. But two seconds later, I recognized the voice, panic seeping into my heart. Not again… "Bakura?"

"Dammit, you know who this is! Now give me the rod, Marik!"

Crap. I needed to leave. I placed my hand over the speaker and called out into the shop. "Joey! Emergency!"

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. See ya later."

"Kay." Back to the phone I added. "You at the house?"

"Your house, yes," came his cold voice, chilling me through the speaker. "Why don't you drop on by?"

I sighed. "Just stay there, ok? I'm coming over to give you the rod."

"Excellent." was all he said before hanging up.


	4. The Rod is a Lie

Yeah. I had to. Don't hate me for my references.

I do not own Yu-gi-oh or Portal or their creators. I just own me.

-Rin Reiko

----------------------------------

It's not that I was confused, or afraid. He'd done this several other times before; I'd just hoped he was getting better. Walking into our apartment, I could see he'd turned off all the lights save for the kitchen one. Or maybe that was because it was the only one he'd turned on all day…

"Bakura?..." I ventured, flipping on the living room lights. I almost jumped when I found him suddenly sitting on the couch, looking straight at me. Just like he had on the first day we met. I put a hand over my heart with a small laugh. "Oh man!... You scared me!..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Not enough, apparently."

My fake laugh died. "Bakura, come on. We've been over this."

"Give me the rod."

"I don't have it. There's no such thing as-"

A hand was on my throat, pressing me back against the apartment wall. My own hands clawed at the familiar one, grip tightening as I tried to loosen it. Dammit, I hate when he gets like this! "Ba… kura…" I choked.

"You LIED to me!" He growled near my face, his own features twisting into a version of hate and disgust. "You said you had it. I want it."

"Ba..kura…. I never… have it…" I defended, as best as I could. "Every time…. you do this…. I never have it…." I gasped. "Doesn't exist!..."

"Yes it DOES!" he assured me forcefully, closing my throat even more. "I already have the ring, Pegasus has the eye, and you have the rod! Now give it to me!"

I couldn't speak even if I tried. Shit. I'd have to hurt him.

"AGH!" he cried, dropping my throat as I kneed his groin, much to my chagrin. I generally like that area of him. I gasped air back into my lungs and distanced myself from him, going into the kitchen. His determined stumbling could be heard from down the hall. This is not what I needed right now.

Grabbing a knife and the phone, I made my usual move of defending myself as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, limping and eyes trained on me. My throat was still raw and bruised, making it hard to speak with confidence.

"Bakura…" I choked out, swallowing to become clearer. "C'mon… stop this. We all know how it ends…" Those flashing eyes never calmed though, still blaming me. He knew my next move, and wasn't at all pleased with it.

"You call them and I kill you." was all he offered.

"Fine. I won't call them." I set the phone down gingerly on the counter to prove my point. "But you have to calm down. I can't deal with you like this, and I don't want it to escalate."

"It wouldn't if you'd just give me the rod!" he snarled, frustrated with this charade as much as I was. God, if I even knew what the hell the rod _was_, I would have shoved it up his ass a long time ago. But as it was, we have to go through this dance about once every five months. I opened my mouth to speak my next line.

"There is no rod!" I repeated, opening my arms for emphasis, knife still in hand. "Bakura, snap out of it! This isn't you!"

"Oh, and what IS me?" he challenged, moving in closer and mocking me. "Is it that damn 'Ryou' I became with the Clinic's help? Huh? Is the real me only accessible with the aid of pills and a straightjacket, or is this me?" He motioned to himself with outspread arms. "Is the real me what you fools would call a psychopath? Ha! You wouldn't know a real psychopath if he came right up and tore your lung out!"

He was nose-to-nose with me now, backing me up against the kitchen wall. Why I hadn't used the knife, I'll never know. "But I think …" he continued, voice low and subtle, breathing into my soul through his eyes. "I think the real me won't become clear until I possess all the millennium items. And I think you're too scared to give me them… to find out just who the hell I really am." He stroked under my chin with a pensive smirk. "You wouldn't like that, huh Marik? To know who your lover actually is, or isn't? You don't want anything to disrupt your sweet little romance, even if that something is me…."

I gulped. In a way, he was right. More than I was in love with him, I was in love with being in love with him. As much as he tore me down and wore me out, and as much as he was a clinically diagnosed sociopath, he was my lover. And while living without him would be significantly easier, there would be no point to it.

But there would be no point if he killed me either.

"Bakura…." I breathed, looking back into his brown eyes with my own light violet ones. "I know who you are. And you don't need pills or a rod to achieve it. Believe me, if I _had_ a millennium rod… or ring… or stick or whatever… I would give it to you in a heartbeat. But they don't exist, Bakura. They don't exist…"

I could see his eyes wavering, his mind working over why I kept saying that. He frowned, and I knew he wanted to believe me, but couldn't understand how. I dropped the knife and reached up to stroke his face, my eyes still pleading with his. The fact that he'd even wanted to understand touched me, and I knew I had to make him see.

With the touch, he stiffened in defense, just absorbing it. Trailing my fingers up to the start of his ear, he began to relax into it, determining it was safe. Slowly I noticed his eyes dull from that frantic energy to the state of stability that they usually maintained. My hand cupped the side of his face and stroked his temple with my thumb, soothing his skittish mood back to calm with an easy rhythm, bringing him back to reality.

As far as I know, I'm the only one who can do this.

Eventually, his breathing evened out and his gaze lowered from mine. His own hand cupped over mine and held it there for a moment. "…. They don't exist," was all he murmured, but I knew it meant thank you.

I nodded and gave him a kiss, both my hands framing his face. He fell into it with gentle passion, his hands holding my waist to him in a possessive grip. Making up was always my favorite part of any craziness we went through, and he was as good at ending it as he was at starting it. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and threading my fingers through the loose strands of his white hair. A short moan came from him as he opened my mouth for his tongue to enter, pressing me up more against the wall. It's strange, the places in this house we choose to make love in. I remember we did it once in the small closet under the stairs, the vacuum cleaner digging into my back the whole time.

But every time we do it, I feel safer than I ever have with anyone else.

Which is strange, considering he's the only one who ever puts me in any danger.


	5. Disapproval

Oh, the conflict. Poor widdle Marik.

I own nothing that's already been claimed.

-Rin Reiko

-------------------------------------

Ishizu wasn't very happy the day he was released, and I know she still holds some sort of grudge against him for convincing them of his improved health. Somehow. She's not entirely sure how he did it.

I think she's just unhappy she lost her research client.

Walking across the street through the trademark chill of early afternoon air, winter staking its claim on the past autumn with in icy vengeance, I was reminded of that day three years ago, meeting my sister for lunch then like I am now. It's funny how life will recycle itself over time, repeating circumstances and conditions to create that déjà vu effect. It was the same time of year, same part of the city, same time of day, and the same restaurant as today, except that back then it was raining, I had driven over on my bike versus walked, and my rear wasn't throbbing from the activities of last night like it was now.

I fidgeted with the thick scarf around my collar, noticing these differences and hoping I could at least hide the ones on my neck.

Spotting her long black hair and tanned skin from across the room, I waved and made my way over to her, sitting in the opposite seat at the table. "Ishizu-chan!" I hugged her. "How are you?"

"Marik-chama!" she replied with a smile, both of us settling into our seats. "I'm good. It's been so long!" I nodded in agreement.

"Too long. You still dealing with that delusional 'American' patriot?"

She laughed. "Yes! And now he thinks he's Canadian!"

I joined her in laughter, continuing to talk about idle things. I told about my motorcycle projects and how Joey almost broke the front support frame in front of a customer, and she told of her patients and their oddities, all of which came from the dreaded "Clinic" that she arrived at three years earlier. She told me of Odion, and how he's doing in America as a tattoo artist. It's no wonder he became one after the incredible job he did with mine on his very first attempt as a teenager. I don't think even _he_ knew how well he could do.

All along my back are these Egyptian symbols I chose, meaning various things and illustrating different facets of me, done in black ink. It took over four hours, if I remember correctly, and I was only thirteen at the time! Father would have been enraged if not for the fact that they were hieroglyphics, a style I chose on purpose so I could rebel without being punished. I smiled a little at the memory. Bakura thought I was pretty clever for thinking that far ahead, and devious for getting it to work. Which, in his terms, meant he was impressed. I guess I was impressed too, looking back on it. But, of course, we all know the real reason for my wanting one.

All good bikers have tattoos.

"So…." she ventured after a pause, taking a thoughtful bite of her salad. I bristled internally, knowing what was coming next. "How are you and….?"

Bakura. How careful a subject that was between us.

"We're fine." I replied, taking a chopstick-size serving from my own bowl of noodles, slurping them up swiftly. "He's been looking for work and seems happy."

"Are you happy, otouto-san?" She looked at me with her beautiful outlined eyes, sternly and full of meaning, yet with that undercurrent of compassion she'd kept for me all throughout my life. In a way, I was flattered from her care. But at the same time, I knew what she was implying and was sick of it.

"Yes. Very happy, nii-sama." I used her formal title to mock her, slurping up some more noodles and swallowing. "I'm thinking of proposing."

She dropped her chopsticks at that, mouth agape. I couldn't help but to hide a small smirk at her expression. I'd been saving that bomb for something big.

"P-Propose???" she stammered, truly shocked. "Marik-chan! Be reasonable!"

"I am." I responded coolly, blowing on another serving of noodles. "People get married all the time."

"You know what I mean!"

"Nii-sama," I tried again, dropping the sarcasm. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. And I know why you're upset, but you have to trust me." I placed my hand on hers across the table. "I love him and I want to marry him."

She bit her lip and looked down, not moving her hand. I could tell what she was thinking just from the way she chewed her tongue. "…What will you do if he says no?"

I thought about that. "Then I guess I'll wait. I know he loves me, but it would be just like him to reject the idea of marriage, wouldn't it?" I chuckled a little, to which she did not reply.

I removed my hand slowly.

"I'm worried about you, Marik…" she murmured gently, in the way she always does when she can't change someone's mind. It still brought a small pang to my heart, even though I ignored it. This was no time to crumble.

"I know you are, Ishizu-chan," I conceded, poking at the noodles in my bowl absently. "But I don't know what to tell you. You may be scared of how he treats me, but I'm not. It's not nearly as bad as Father, and I really don't mind. He's not mean, just real. And I like that about him."

She sighed at that. "Leave it to you to like being in an abusive relationship, Marik…" I would've laughed, but her voice had no humor in it. I kept poking at my broth, the stringy flesh of the noodles swaying in the currents. It was strange, and I knew it. Why it didn't bother me that we hit each other was lost even to me, and I had just stopped comparing us to other couples after the first year. How could I, anyway? We're both rather odd individuals, and so their standards shouldn't apply to us in the first place. As long as he loved me and I knew it, I was fine.

"It's not abusive, Ishizu," I clarified after a pause. "If I hated it, it would be. But I don't see it as hatred or anything negative when we get into fights. _All_ couples fight, and it's different for each one. Some cry, some yell, others stay silent, we hit. I know you think I'm the victim, but I've hurt him many times as well. And we both know where we stand in it, that it's just our form of expressing disagreement, and neither of us have complained once." Her lips thinned in silence, knowing I was right. All the times she found out about my bruises were from her inspecting me herself. I never once came crying to her. And I wasn't about to any time soon.

"….. He's still not supposed to hit you," she confirmed, if only to herself. "If you love someone, you just don't hit them."

"Are you saying he doesn't love me?"

"No, I'm saying he's psychotic. Which is what I've been saying for the past three years now." She looked at my challenging gaze with steady eyes. "He doesn't know how to behave because his sense of right and wrong is skewed. He's… he's like a child, Marik! An angry, manipulative child, who won't think twice about lashing out at anyone who denies him what he wants."

"Oh?" I folded my arms, leaning back in the chair. "And what does he want?"

"……" She looked down at her lap, hands folded. "I don't know."

I scowled, done with this bashing. "Well, I know what _I_ want, and I'm going to go get it. With or without your support." I dropped my share of yen down onto the table between us and stood up. Ishizu reached out to me and opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. "Good day nii-san."

And with a short bow and a frown, I left her behind.

But I could swear I heard her say softly, to herself, as I headed towards the restaurant door, "….You're becoming just like him."


	6. An Eye for a Lie

Enter Pegasus. Queen of Catastrophe.

I STILL DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. GOD! WHY MUST YOU REMIND ME OF MY FAILURE??? *cries*

-Rin Reiko

--------------------------------------------------

He greeted me with flowers. Which surprised me.

A beautiful, simple bouquet of white roses, with one orange-yellow one in the middle, stared me in the face as I opened the apartment door. It was our secret code: the white representing him and the orange, me. I've reversed this arrangement several times, an orange bouquet and a single white rose, when I've given them to him. The occasion is always different, but their meaning remains the same.

I love you. I'm sorry.

"Hi…" he started, a small smile on his handsome features as he held them out to me. A gasp escaped my throat as I took them, holding them to my mouth fondly. Of course it was extremely corny, but I couldn't help it. I threw my arms around him in a grateful hug.

"Hi." I smiled into his shoulder.

His strong arms wrapped around me as we held each other for a moment. It's so very rare for him to be in this mood, and it would always give me energy for at least three or four weeks after. I think maybe he knew this. Or maybe he didn't. It was so hard to tell with him.

Either way, I took comfort from the warm drumbeat in my chest, pounding louder in the wake of his affection. And Ishizu doubted him? I mentally rolled my eyes at my sister's foolishness and focused on this moment.

Which ended all too soon. We parted in a slow unison, leaving me blushing at him with a shy sort of disbelief, the kind young teens possess on their first date out with someone. I noticed that he, with his ever-confident gaze, was busy looking me over as well, taking in my features with a mix of warmth and possession. I still had no idea why he gave me flowers. I thought the "I'm sorry" already happened during last night's sex.

But I wasn't complaining.

"So… have fun at lunch?" His smile was still there, hidden under his cover of bland conversation as he slid away from me to put the flowers in a vase in the kitchen. He was in a great mood, I marveled, and wondered what god had decided to grant us the good fortune.

"Yeah. It was good to catch up." I replied, shedding the warm and scratchy scarf from my dotted neck. It itched something fierce after having worn it for an hour or two, and I clawed absently at the red and purple complexion of my throat as I headed into the kitchen with him.

He laughed upon seeing me. "Damn! I marked you up something good!" He always prided himself on his methods of possession, from the loving to the aggressive, and I could tell he was pleased with the strange state of my neck. In a way, I was too. "What did your sister say to _that_ one?"

"Haha!" I laughed, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck as he finished with the flowers. "She didn't. Mr. Scarf came to the rescue." My fingers twirled lightly in the wayward strands of his pristine hair.

"You mean my scarf?" he smirked, returning the gesture with his hands on my waist. His fingers drummed lightly over my bare skin under the shirt and it took every ounce of me not to buckle to the floor.

"Uh huh."

"It looks good on you," was all he said in a close whisper before drawing me into a subtle kiss. His taste shot through my mouth as I kissed back, my tongue running over his matching white teeth slowly. These were the blessed moments when he would turn into my prince charming and nothing else in the world could possibly matter to me. We moaned in skillful unison as he plundered my mouth at his whim, my hands clinging to the nape of his neck for balance. It was perfect….

Until the phone rang.

We groaned and glanced in its direction with twin expressions of annoyance, as if daring it to ring again. On the third chime, Bakura parted and snatched it to his ear, arms still loosely around my waist. I smirked and began to nibble his free ear as he barked, "Yeah?"

"Ah, Bakura-san. It's been so long…." came the unmistakably fruity ambiance of another platinum-haired man, one who brought an immediate scowl to my lover's face. I remedied it with butterfly kisses to his neck and chin, coaxing the smallest moan from his throat.

"What was that?" Pegasus asked incredulously, and you could just see his eyebrow raise with his tone. "Bakura-san?"

"What do you want?" He growled, but not as harshly as I was still kissing up his neck. His suppressed sounds always excited me. "I got your damn box if that's what you're wondering."

The warden laughed airily as if this was a pleasant joke between the two. For all I knew, it was. "Oh, the box… no no, I'm not concerned about that," he clarified lightly. "I was just calling to check in on you, my little albino."

A venomous growl came from Bakura's throat at that, looking ready to bite the phone's head off. I stopped him by sucking on his lower lip, distracting his mouth before trailing lower along his gurgling throat. His eyes closed and he suppressed some more of his anger, turning back to the conversation. "Well…. I'm perfectly fine, thanks. So see ya."

"Not so fast, Bakura-chan." His casual reference was a taunting one, causing Bakura's eyes to flash with a certain hatred, reserved only for his memories at the Clinic. "I wanted to talk to you about something else as well. Something…. personal."

We both halted at that, me glancing at him for an explanation, and him glancing at the receiver as if it could kill him. There were still many things about his stay there that he wouldn't tell me, and many more that have haunted him at night in our bed. A silence filled the once-moaning room before he spoke.

"….How personal?"

The warden laughed at his grave tone. "Oh, not personal for _you_, silly! For me." We relaxed in unison, glad we wouldn't have to face that type of situation anytime soon. "You see, I've had a little trouble with the guests here that I was hoping you could help clear up…"

Guests. Now it was a hotel? I rolled my eyes, pecking at Bakura's skin again. Why couldn't people just call it what it was: a mental institute?

Bakura scoffed at the request, his eyes smiling at my regained attention to his neck and face. His hand slid up to stroke my hair a bit as he gave his answer. "Why would I help you, Pegasus? I hate you."

You could almost see him pout over the phone. "Now, now, Bakura-san…." He tried as Bakura's eyes closed to the soft bites I gave under his jaw. "I thought we were starting over. A clean slate. I even sent you that present…"

He laughed. "You mean the box of straight jackets and medicine and electro-shock torture devices you call a care package?"

There was a silence, broken only by my gentle noises on his throat. "…You never actually opened the gift, did you?"

His eyes darted with a wary look for the briefest of moments. I knew he was wondering what Pegasus was up to, as was I. But his eyes regained their defensive focus again and his voice turned cool. "No. I don't really care for what presents you have to offer. In fact, my release from your wretched care was the best present you could've ever given me."

Another silence from the receiver. I raised my head from his neck to hear the verdict, even though it always made me hot to hear Bakura cut down his enemies like that. "I think you'll like what I sent you, though," came the confident voice from the phone again. "Why don't you go open it right now, Bakura-chan?" The fondness was back, but more chilling than the first time. I looked at his steel-brown eyes for a decision, knowing his curiosity was piquing now, and mine was beginning to spark.

His hand slipped from my waist and went to find the box, in the corner of the living room, as I followed. It was still unopened and uncared for, sitting there in its corner like a scolded child or the dunce of the classroom. His hand brushed the top of it, searching for the best point at which to tear. Not an easy task, seeing the box was battered and woven together with what looked like the remains of several other cardboard packages.

"… How do I open the damn thing?" he asked the phone.

"Just tear the top off, Bakura-san." He answered blandly, a hint of insult in his reply. "I'm sure you of all people know how to do that."

"Shut up." He dug his nails into the corner of the package and ripped the topmost layer clean off, the withered cardboard flopping in his grasp. Dust particles filled the surrounding air as he waved them away, looking into the box's dark contents. I tiptoed over to look with him, heart pounding at what madness could be inside.

But first, there was a crateful of styrofoam peanuts to dig through.

Bakura growled and reached his hands into the mound, the phone resting between his shoulder and ear as he felt around for an object. A brave move, I must admit, seeing as we didn't actually know what was in there.

"…. Careful," was all I contributed to his searching.

"I know."

After a tense moment, his fingers caught hold of something and surfaced it from the sea of peanuts. I held my breath without even realizing it, craning to see the small object that apparently fit into his one hand.

He uncovered it, to find it was…

"An eye?"

"Well, not really just any eye…" came Pegasus's ever-bland retort, drawled over the speaker phone. "But I wouldn't expect your… partner to understand that, Bakura." Great, he'd heard me. Like I needed any scorn from strangers today.

Bakura didn't even seem to notice, his attention fixed solely on the faux gold item resting in his open palm. I came closer and could see that familiar glint of obsession in his eye, the one I dreaded and that could make my stomach fall through to my feet. I swallowed and put a hand on his shoulder to coax him out of it.

My touch, like a spark to his system, sent his eyes into focus and turned towards the phone, as if accusing it. "Ha. This is your eye, Pegasus? Very funny." His fingers enclosed over its shine, as if to dispel its magic effect on him.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to appreciate it now, of course," he scoffed, like it was obvious. "That's why the note clarified 'for emergencies'."

Bakura rolled his eyes and tossed the eye back into the peanuts with a soft, swallowed thud. "Yeah, ok great. Next time, send us a TV."

"But-"

"Nice talking to you Pegasus. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a previous engagement." With that, he dropped the silent phone on the couch and pulled me back into a passionate kiss. Completely flattered, I wrapped my arms around him and fell back into it without another thought, drawing all my cares away through his warm mouth and wrapping myself back into his calming, familiar scent.

I barely even recognized the split second in which his eyes re-opened and gazed back at the open box, the dilation of thought and desire coursing though his irises, before turning back to me and kissing deeper to push the quandaries of his consciousness away.

I hoped, for good.


	7. One Constant Loop

It's a short one, I know.

Nothing belongs to me except the imagery.

-Rin Reiko

The petals, now curling towards each other, their white contours outlined and etched with faint traces of aging brown, were the only thing my tired mind could focus on at the moment. It was four in the afternoon, and I'd worked on three separate shipments down at the shop today, none of which were near finished yet. Joey hadn't welded the framework together for two of them, and I was behind on installing the engine in another. At least the paint colors were chosen, but that's not even my department.

Worst of it was, Bakura had agreed to Pegasus' insane offer.

He'd called us, again, to finish the odd conversation my partner had abruptly ended last time, with an additional request that Bakura come back to give ... inspirational messages… to the current patients. He would pay him per appearance, and rather well, I must admit, and all Bakura would have to do is visit some group therapy sessions and tell them basically what good things can come from sticking it out and finishing your program. All the usual bullshit.

I was so certain he'd say no, seeing as he won't even call the asylum by its real name. But then again, I never can be too certain with Bakura. He probably sees this as some twisted way of getting back at Pegasus, brainwashing his patients under the guise of a motivational speech, or some other confusing plan like that. I never interpret; I just let him do what he needs to do.

He would anyway, so I may as well support it.

My biggest concern, of course, is what mental doors he could unlock while visiting there. What faint little memories or images could trigger some welled-up madness still left inside him and let it all out. He basically has it under control, but he needs a barrier with him to keep it at that level: a filter, a shield. He needs me.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

"Mmm…" I rubbed my temples lazily, staring at the kitchen tabletop now. The faded swirls of wood grain stared back at me with hypnotic intentions, churning my muddled thoughts into one constant loop. I needed to stop thinking. I needed to stop worrying. I needed a bath.

The vapors of hot water from the tap built up a therapeutic cloud of steam around the bathroom in no time, me slipping in to soak in its relaxing contents. My body, constantly throbbing with some new bruise or cut from being clumsy, being loved, or being scolded, barely registered a wince as the dull pangs from my hips and arms and lower back loosened in the heat. I closed my eyes and thought back to the fading ivory of those petals, how the sepia signs of age had crept upon their visage like the dark brown shadow of instability that had slowly crept into Bakura's shifting eyes over the years. But perhaps that madness was always there, bubbling below the surface, only waiting for the opportune moment to unmask itself. It certainly seemed intent on consuming him.

And here I go, thinking I can possibly save him? I sank lower into the water as its rumbling sound echoed numbly in my ears.

Maybe that was the real madness in all this.


	8. Pale and Penetrable

Another shortie. Sigh. I must've been tired or something. Don't worry- it all has a purpose.

HA. I'm not doing a disclaimer this time. Take it.

-Rin Reiko

-------------------------------------------

It was two years ago that he was at his worst.

Thrashing in his restraints, I remember the accusing sheen of his eyes, fixed on me, on Ishizu, on whoever dared to approach him. The hallway was lit as blindingly as ever, the pristine white broken only by the dark colors of the security uniforms, the cracked brown leather of the straps, my vibrant green scarf, the deep blue of my sister's suit. The pale and penetrable tint of our flesh. Wide, wild eyes locked onto mine to stop my breath and still my heart, their angular shape rounded in mad fear.

"They'll protect you for now, but they can't help you forever! They don't know you like I do!" he snarled, piercing the target on my chest. His eyes were laughing behind their unstable irises, his white hair threading over his face with his movements. "They don't know just how bad you have it for me! But you do! …. But you do!...."

He was laughing all the way back to his room.

I remember shivering, but not from the cold. I couldn't recall the temperature even if I tried. Her delicate hands were on my shoulders, tying me back to an anchor as I watched him float away in a white sea, the crashing of his waves fading with the closing of the door, the turning of a lock. She spoke gentle words to me, said something important into her pager, and followed my gaze along the bright ocean, now calm in his wake. My cheek hurt and my upper lip was bleeding, the gash across my torso was throbbing, but barely important. She cared, but she was the only one who did. No, there were more important things here.

There was fear… and there was certainly pain, born out of insanity and bred from a white-tinted hell. There was truth and there was chaos, if only for a moment, and gone as just as quick as it came. There was longing…. and there was denial…. definitely hatred, but mostly confusion…. There was the crash of white light and the burning of those eyes.

_Those eyes_.

There was a proof that I had never known, the evidence that he was truly, undeniably crazy. The fact that he needed more help than I could ever give him.

And there was me, pretending I hadn't seen any of this at all.

"… Now will you believe me?" There came her voice, the only words I ever remember her uttering the entire time. "Now will you stop loving him like a fool?"

I spoke the one word she didn't want to hear.

"Never."


	9. The Trouble With Graduating

Yaaay updates!

Thank you to all my readers and commenters! You're the reason I'm posting, after all.

This chapter follows Bakura. I know it's a bit unexpected since the rest of it is basically in Marik's voice, but I plan to put a couple scenes of his lover in here, since he's important too.

I still own nothing. Damn it all.

-Rin Reiko

"Yugi-san, you have to stop switching people if you want to talk to Bakura-san," tsked the mentor, rubbing the bridge of his nose slightly as the defiant youth with three hair colors sat back in his chair. The teenager, only 5'3" not including the hair, scoffed at the mention of manners, or for that matter, of sanity. Bakura formed the smallest of smiles, seeing this. The counselor would never recognize it, but this was Yami he was speaking to at the moment, and honestly, Bakura would rather motivate that side of the boy than the other. Not that the goody-goody Yugi needed it.

Yami was just always more partial to Bakura's tastes.

"I think Yami wants to talk to Bakura-san, though," came the broken accent of Shadi-san, an Egyptian immigrant with a trademark turban. Bakura was always surprised to find that his headdress was allowed here, seeing as it is a variation to the white patient's uniform they're required to wear. But then, perhaps it amused Pegasus, or the fruitcake just simply wanted one of his own. "Yugi side is nothing bad, after all."

Right once again, Turban Man.

The counselor sighed, trying again. "That's not the point here, Shadi-san. We want Yugi Mutou here to use only his Yugi persona, so the other can cease to exist. Isn't that right, Mutou-san?" He turned to smile at the adventurous-haired boy, only to receive narrowed eyes and a favorite finger.

Bakura couldn't help but laugh a bit.

Weevil, on the other hand, proceeded to crack up, having been in the clinic for his sick sense of perversion in the first place. The nasally laugh brought a cringe from Bakura and the others, while he muttered odd sexual phrases under his breath to himself, relating to the disrespectful finger from Yami. Or Yugi. Or whoever the fuck he was supposed to be.

"Ok ok, thank you Weevil-san…" came the mentor's coaxing. "Remember what we said about keeping certain thoughts to ourselves…"

"Heh, heh…. I like those thoughts."

"Yes, we all know that. Anyway," he continued, almost too cheerfully. "We brought Bakura-san here today for his bright dose of helpful inspiration! Let's all hear what he has to say about graduation!"

A fleeting thought to grab some patient's pills from the nurse's trolley suddenly overtook him. A sigh escaped instead as he remembered Marik, and why he was here in the first place. Normally, he would've said no and other, more rudely-phrased objections to Pegasus' offer, but it was a _handsome_ sum of money he was being given for this performance, and he hadn't exactly been employee of the month lately. Or ever, for that matter. Marik was the stable breadwinner of the two, and that was never very fair to him in the first place. He deserved to be reimbursed evenly, and money like this just didn't present itself every day.

"….I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say."

"Well, just say what's in your heart then," blinked the man in an all-too sincere fashion. "Or on your mind. Any advice you have is treasure to us!"

Yes, he might just gag. The rest of the group fell silent, mixed looks of patience and challenge across their faces as they waited for him to speak.

What was really on his mind?…. Because they could all just forget about the heart thing. That was an organ reserved strictly for one man and one man only at this point. But what to say? Maybe more correctly, what not to say? There were several points about his stay that they all had experienced evenly, and he had known the three as close acquaintances for most of it. The pills, the rooms, the meal plans, the exercise regimen, the free time, the rules, the uniform, and the therapy sessions were just the basics of the common ground they shared while housed here, and that certainly didn't need repeating. Or reliving.

Advice…. Advice….. Besides survive, there was nothing more he really could say. Each patient's recovery is different from the next, even if it's for the same condition; everybody knows that. He could just bullshit some wisdom about how he 'saw the light' and turned a new leaf, or go on a romantic tangent about how Marik's love saved him from destruction, but all three knew him better than that by now, and he could calculate each person's reaction to his lies already. Something more truthful would have to be in order…

So much for thinking this would be easy money.

"….. Bakura?" The albino jumped a little at that. "Your answer?"

"Oh…. right… well, the truth is…." The truth is… sometimes, he feels the truth is that he hasn't really gotten better at all. He may be a legally classified socio-psychopath, but he isn't blind. Fact of the matter is, he likes how he is just too much to really change… and isn't that a good thing? Like some sort of self-esteem trip or something? Oh right, the speech…

"…The truth is, your journey never really ends."

He looked up at the silence that filled the room, taking in the expressions of his audience. Just as he thought, they weren't happy to hear that. Yugi/Yami looked ready to 'mind crush' him, as he calls it, Shadi was just plain confused, and Weevil was frowning in disgusted aggravation. Well, he couldn't blame them. Where the hell had that come from anyway…? The mentor seemed to be the only one happy about it, probably in awe at the possibility of not being the only one to read the how-to counseling manual right before speaking. He wishes.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that, Bakura-san?" he asked with a bounce.

Sure, if he could figure out what it was that he'd actually meant. "Well…. I was released from here a year ago-"

"-You mean you graduated." He clarified.

"…. Sure. Graduated. I 'graduated' a year ago, and ever since then…. it seems as if I'm still learning how to cope with my… condition." He explained plainly. Hopefully that was broad enough to satisfy.

"Like how?" Shit.

"I guess it's in the little things…" he trailed, fiddling with some strands of his long white mane. "Like when I become fixated on an object that reminds me of my 'obsession'…. or how I act when I talk about this place… I find it hard to watch medical dramas a lot…. and Marik has to hide a lot of gold jewelry from me…." _Why_ was he suddenly going into all this? They did not need to know about any part of his life, especially the Marik part! "But I'm getting better all the time." Good, cover it up with lies, he reminded himself, play with your strengths.

"May we ask who Marik is?" the man pried.

"…. Someone important to me." Those flashing brown eyes cut him off before he could dare ask further.

"Ah…. continue."

He nodded before speaking again. "But despite all these setbacks…. I live a pretty normal life now. I'm looking for a job…. dating… seeing the real world again... and while the problem is still there, it's not that big a deal anymore…"

"So you'd consider yourself cured?" came the challenging glare from Yami. Bakura returned his gaze with a smile.

"No."

As all three sets of eyebrows raised, the paling counselor stammered to correct the speaker's bluntness. "Uh… W-what he means is…. Well, it's not really…. We would never graduate someone who wasn't fully cured…" He laughed a bit, if only to soothe his own nerves.

"What he means," Yami added coolly. "Is that none of this is ever really going o go away." The strange-haired youth smiled a bit in amusement, matching Bakura's own smirk. Yes, he'd always felt they had more in common than met the eye.

"Well, of course it's going away!" the counselor objected. "That's why you're here…. to heal and be reborn. You'll see."

"Hmm…." Bakura mused and stood, taking his jacket from the back of his seat, dusting it off lightly. "I suppose we will."

"W-Wha? Where are you going?"

"Home. I've said my peace."

"B-But we're not done here ye-"

The snow-haired man nodded good luck to the three patients before opening the door to the hallway, stepping out before another stammered response could be uttered. What a waste of time. There were much more important matters to focus on than motivating a bunch of psychotic inmates who already knew just what the deal was with their illnesses, and frankly, who couldn't care less about how to fix them.

He hoped Marik was at least having fun at home.


	10. Propositioning a Devil

OK GUYS-

This is my favorite scene EVER!!!! I dunno why. Maybe because I'm such a hopeless romantic.... but anyway I love it and I hope you love it and eee!

I own the love.

-Rin Reiko

-----------------------------

I could hear the clicking of the door latch even through the water, signaling his return home. The familiar scuffling of his clothes as he draped the heavier layers over furniture, the stomp of his boots until he shed them, and then the shuffle of his sock feet over the wood floors as he made his way down the hall were all harmonies to the symphony of my day. Such sounds I never realized were present until just now, and they made me anxious in their absence. The swing of the refrigerator door accompanied his clanging until he was satisfied with its contents, then the even vibrating of his footsteps started again and grew stronger until he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, gazing at me in the tub.

My eyes were still closed as I asked, "How did it go?"

His shirt sounded in a shrug as the breaking hiss of a soda can echoed in the tiled room. "Ok, I guess," he replied after a gulp.

"Well, what did you talk about?"

A creak was made as he sat on the angled step built into the side of the tub, against the wall. His long legs stretched out along the floor and slid over the tiles with soft ease, relaxing. "Just boring things," he answered blandly, sipping his drink. "They asked me about graduation and I made up something of an answer."

"Was it the truth?"

There was a pause. "Yeah. I think it was."

My eyes opened at that, looking at him in the bright bathroom lights. "You think?"

He shrugged again. "I said something about not really being cured, and I think that's true enough." The tips of his fingers dragged through the warm water, making small eddies in their wake. "I may be crazy, but I think I can guess what it would feel like to be normal…"

I sat up slowly, the water lapping around my body as I rested my arms on the side of the tub with my chin on my hands. "You always seemed normal to me."

He scoffed. "Now there's a lie."

"No no…. you may have issues, but normal people have issues too." I explained. "I'm normal and I do."

His lips brushed the top of my head in a kiss. "No, you're not normal either Marik. But you're also not crazy."

"Perhaps…" was all I offered.

"Perhaps." He nodded.

I rested my head on my arms, looking at him as his long fingers stroked my blonde hair. His eyes seemed far away as they took me in, the gears of his mind turning behind their glassy frame. But I was watching him, his small movements in the white lights. The shine of his hair seemed to glow as if a halo was suspended around him, the contrast of his dark clothing outlining his lean, broad frame against the light tile walls, framing him in a surreal portrait. This angelic view of him made me chuckle inside, knowing full well just how unholy he could be.

Such a demon underneath all that white. And yet…

"Bakura...?" I asked after a long silence.

"Yes?"

"Will you marry me?"

Another long silence. His eyes widened, then pondered in reaction. Eventually, his gaze cast downward and he murmured, "….You don't want to marry me."

"But will you?"

He seemed surprised at this request, not saying a word as he stroked the side of my face with the back of his hand. There was thought translated through his touch, and I waited for him to weigh the options.

"Do you have a ring?"

"Not in here, but yes."

"… Do you have someone's blessing?"

"No, but I'm working on it."

"…. Do you know which one of us will wear the dress?"

"Bakura!" I laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. He chuckled too, deep and demure like he always does, looking at me with a sideways smile.

"Do you really want to do this?"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes, it's all I want."

"Then yes," he kissed me. "Let's do this."

I kissed back and fell into my favorite part of our everyday song and dance.


	11. A Stab in the Dark Against a Giant

Well, I hope you enjoyed the fluff. Cuz here comes the drama!

Oh baby.

I own.... the drama?

-Rin Reiko

------------------------------------------------

"Move all the bikes being shipped out front. In a row."

"But Kaiba-sa-"

"Now."

I sighed to myself as we went to move all the finished vehicles up to the front of the shop, lining them up for the great Seto Kaiba to see. Owning the majority of the electronic and mechanic conglomerates in Japan, nay, in the world, gave him the untouchable power to treat anybody and everybody like his personal slaves. His own younger brother had even fallen victim to several kidnappings in the past for ransom, and his only recorded comment had been a cold "I'm not his keeper". This, needless to say, boosted his ironfisted reputation to new heights within the corporate world.

So now, the bikes. Three Ducatis, the NINJA, a couple Yamahas, and an American Harley sent to us for custom additions were all presented to the stern businessman before us, awaiting his judgment on… well… what was he looking for anyway? I bit my lip and stood in silence.

Thick-soled boots thudded against the concrete floor of the shop as he paced before the machines, hands clasped behind the ridiculously long coat tails of his business jacket. His blue-eyed gaze seemed to dart and flicker in minute movements, sizing up our work and compiling the results in his mental files to make whatever judgment he'd come here to make.

The entire room held its breath.

"Take them apart." He commanded at last, never moving his gaze to address any one person. The entire staff dropped their jaws in unison, not caring to show our shock. Unfazed, he let the silence continue for a moment before flashing us all a warning look. "What are you waiting for?" he scowled, looking at me the longest. "Take them apart."

"B-But," I stammered at last, more outraged than afraid. "We spent weeks assembling these sir! We can't afford to disassemble and rebuild them again just for your benefit!"

"Do I care?"

The words sliced through any further reasoning. Risking a glare, I spoke again. "Why do you need them disassembled?"

"Why do you need to argue with me?" His eyes were as cold as his comments, and never wavering from my own.

I glanced at the rest of the crew, all watching without breathing, eyes wide in anticipation of the verdict. It wasn't fair to do this to them, not after how much work they'd put into these, just like they've put into each bike we send out of here. And no one could afford to waste the next few weeks rebuilding them, especially since the deadlines for new orders were coming up fast. But if Kaiba-san got mad… well, not many businesses have survived his anger. And the ones that have don't speak of it. That was a lot worse than spending the extra hours recovering from his impulsive demands.

"…Fine. Disassemble the bikes."

Murmurs of disbelief sprung up among the staff but were quickly quieted as I took charge again and got them all to work. After a rushed forty-five minutes, the bikes were laid out in pieces, except for the initial frames and core hardware, in front of the businessman's feet.

Wiping sweat from my brow, I stood and panted in completion.

Walking with deliberate steps, Kaiba surveyed the entire collection in rows, lingering on each bike in calculating silence. After an eternity, he approached the dismembered NINJA and plucked a single needle jet from the pile of carburetor parts, inspecting it from a distance with disdain. Joey gave me a wary glance that I did not return. There was no way…

But his eyebrow rose in question.

"This is not from the same model." He stated bluntly, not negotiating the fact. Our silence was broken only by a loud gulp from Joey's throat, his already thin armor cracking. Blue eyes turned to meet mine. "You are mixing parts behind my back."

There was a very loud, childish part of me that would've loved to take a welding torch to his face. "We did not get the proper shipment in time," was all I replied, hoping that would satisfy him.

I should know better.

"Then why didn't you complain to the manufacturers?" His gaze grew colder, if that was even possible, approaching me in accusation. "You know that no one is allowed to cut corners so long as I run this business! Every part…" He brandished the needle jet in front of me for effect. "Every single part of these bikes needs to reflect the quality and superior craftsmanship that Kaiba Corporation stands for! There are no excuses for this kind of shoddy work, and the next time I see it you will be terminated. Do you understand?"

Before I could even nod, a certain yankee drawl interrupted me.

"It wasn't his fault!" the other blonde cried, taking a stab in the dark against a giant. My eyes went wide in disbelief, still trying to convince myself that this was all just a weird dream created by too much leftover pizza. Maybe Bakura would wake me soon, frustrated with all my sleepy thrashing, and growl that I needed to stay on my side of the bed or there would be hell to pay. At least his hell was better than this one.

The icy gaze switched from me to Joey now, blizzarding over him as the mogul's impatience thinned. "What was that?"

"I… I said it wasn't his fault!" he repeated, building a momentum of rebellion. "He didn't switch the parts…. I did!" Straightening his shoulders on the last note, Joey braced himself for whatever wave of anger would come crashing down on him.

My jaw fell open without care. Why on earth was Joey taking the blame? He was there when I'd told him to use the other model's parts… and didn't he specifically comment that he wouldn't take the rap on this one? Bakura, hurry up and kick me awake.

"Did you now?" Kaiba circled him slowly, the standard predatory tactic of most carnivores on the planet, never breaking eye contact. "And just who might you be?"

He swallowed for courage. "Joey Wheeler, sir. Senior Mechanic."

"That's an American name."

"Yes sir."

A barely visible smirk played on his lips. "No wonder." Eyes flash back to me for a second. "And you knew of this switch?"

I caught Joey's gaze enough to read his warnings. I wasn't about to sacrifice his risk for nothing. "No sir… only that parts were scarce."

"Hm." He circled Joey once more before breaking away and snapping for his wingmen to move from their immobile positions. "Wheeler-san, you will stay here for as long as it takes to reassemble these bikes the _right_ way. After that, you can consider yourself fired."

Joey's face paled as I growled, "_I_ make those decisions in this shop, Ka-"

"-And _I_ make the decisions about your decisions, Ishtar-san." He noted, cutting me off with a point. "And unless you want me to decide your future as well, you will do to follow my orders. If I find him still on the payroll after three days, there will be severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"… Crystal, sir."

"Good." Turning on his heel, he headed out the front door of the shop with the two black-suited men close behind, disappearing into the bright afternoon light as the door swung shut in submission. Thick silence was everywhere, driving us mad.

When the numbness faded from my body a bit, I slowly turned my head to look back at Wheeler, staring ahead as if the world had been pulled out from under his feet. The rest of the shop was motionless in their cluster around us, not daring to even exist for fear of wrecking something. I knew that tactic all too well.

Someone had to break the spell.

"Ok…" I clapped distantly, awaking some from their stupor of shock. "We have a lot to do. Let's get to it."

Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to move. I could feel that a small sigh had been released from the group, but the full, exhaled breath had yet to pass. Just a matter of time now… The ordinary sounds of the shop returned as the mechanics resumed their work and started to reassemble the piles Kaiba had just rejected. Only one worker remained near me, staring off into his distant future with shocked eyes, replaying his death sentence over and over again.

My hand touched Joey's shoulder, jolting him from his blank thoughts. His tortured gaze turned into something far more futile as he caught my eyes, all shields down and with no way to bring them back up. I'd never seen him like this before, but I was no stranger to his expression, having worn it myself more often than I'd like. At that point, there was nothing much to do, so I offered the only comfort I could.

"Come into the office, Joey."


	12. Aftershock

Short, but sweet.

Oh Joey. You make me want a hug.

-Rin Reiko

----------------------------------

Locking the door behind him, he sank into one of the plastic folding chairs scattered around the compact, drab workroom, cluttered with file boxes of forgotten paperwork and archived shipment order forms still needing to be cataloged. I needed to remind Ashira-san to get on that… _again_. I leaned against the end of the cheap black desk, also covered in an endless layering of papers and leftover takeout debris. It, like the rest of the place, is in the worst possible position for its job, curving in an L shape into the middle of the already small space and cutting the room into three sections. As I stood and he sat, a long, heavy silence ensued, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the wall clock above us and the rhythmic whirrs of machinery in the shop beyond the door.

That's when I realized Joey's face was stained with lines of quiet tears.

There's nothing quite so eerie or so genuine as seeing a co-worker cry, especially if he's a man. Even among homosexuals, crying maintains a certain degree of taboo, if only to provide us with one last barrier against full-fledged womanhood. I, like any average adult male, didn't quite know what to make of this, watching always-joking Joey suddenly leaking from the eyes like a sink with no basin. And I couldn't help but think: a woman would know what to do. A woman would know how to hold him, and how to calm him, and how to speak to his broken soul. A woman like my sister could even tell him exactly what parts of his subconscious and conscious minds were at work in his grief, and how he should utilize them in order to recover and regain his sense of self tenfold. But I am not my sister, and I am definitely not a woman. I can barely remember to tie my shoes in the morning (or furthermore, remember that I don't wear shoes with laces) let alone come up with the perfect manly response to another man's despairing tears.

Which explains why it took me a good five minutes before I decided to screw it all to hell and hug the poor bastard, letting him let it out onto my shoulder, all over the dirty mechanic's uniform sleeve that covered it.


	13. Second Opinion, Second Thoughts

Oh Bakura. You're so sexy when you're angry. But you still make our little Marik cry....

Tsk Tsk.

Once again, thank you to all my readers and reviewers! Keep those thoughts coming! I love to hear feedback.

-Rin Reiko

-------------------------------------------------

"You're certainly late getting home…" Bakura announced from another room as I let myself inside. The clock had read at ten o' five when I had left, and I had no idea how much time had passed on the way home. Minutes and hours seemed the same to me at this point, and I'd forgotten altogether that I was supposed to call if I was going to be late.

"Oh… sorry Bakura." I replied, laying my things down on the couch as I passed by it. Ignoring his confused look from the doorway, I headed to the kitchen in search of leftovers. His footsteps followed me in as I asked, "Where's the takeout I kept from last night?"

"Bottom shelf. Marik…" He looked me over as I bent to reach the food. "What happened?"

I stood and glanced at him, but remained silent. Scraping the contents of the container out onto a plate, I sighed. "You really want to know?"

"Yes." Arms wrapped around my waist. "Now spill."

Swallowing a blush, I leaned into them, resting on the firm chest behind me. "Joey… got fired today." Now the sadness was back, making me look at my feet. "By Kaiba."

"Kaiba? He came in today?"

I nodded, turning to face him and rest my head on his shoulder. I really didn't want to talk about it, but I knew I'd have to, now that the interest was there. "He found that we were cutting corners and…. Joey took the rap."

He frowned to think as I pulled away just enough to place my plate in the microwave and punch in the time. The machine's docile hum mimicked the one in his head as it spun, both parties whirring with a purpose. For a minute there was only the noise, but when the beep sounded and I removed the plate, he spoke.

"Why would he get himself fired like that?"

My eyebrows rose but I took a bite of my meal, leaning against the counter's edge. "Bakura…. I really don't want to get into thi-"

"No, really. He knew Kaiba was irrational and heartless, just like anyone else on the planet does. So why would he put himself on the line like that?"

I sighed. "Because we're friends, Bakura."

"But he knew you would be sad to see him go," he reasoned, gaining speed. "Not to mention it leaves him unemployed."

"Bakura, that's just what friends do." I took another, more exasperated bite. "He didn't want me to lose my job."

"So he sacrificed his? And it wasn't even his fault!" He looked at me. "Who was the one cutting corners?"

I chewed slowly.

"He took the blame for something _you_ did?" His arms went out in disbelief. "But then you deserve to be fired!"

"Oh thanks, Bakura." My eyes narrowed. "Nice to see you wishing well of me."

"I don't overlook what happens to be the truth, Marik." His eyes dropped in temperature as well. "Even you know better than that."

"I can't help it if you don't understand our friendship, Bakura." I put the plate down. God, this is not what I need right now…

"I don't have to understand it to know he got cheated out of a job over something as fickle as loyalty!" he fired back, hitting right on target.

"Oh! Nice to see you discrediting faith again!" I jabbed, not thinking before arguing. "You know, maybe he did it because he wanted to protect me, Bakura! And that doesn't always have to make sense when it feels right!"

He folded his arms calmly. "Would you do the same for him?"

I stopped, mouth slowly closing. It would be such a lie to say yes… yet I wanted it to be true. There's no way I could afford a sacrifice like that, especially since I have the only stable job between us. But I'm sure Joey had his own burdens… and he still swooped in and saved me. I owe it to him to say yes…

I owe it to him to mean it.

"That's what I thought." Bakura's steely brown eyes read my thoughts, and, as usual, found disappointment. His hand went out and slapped my cheek without pause, leaving a stinging reminder of his disapproval.

"You're selfish, Marik. And you screwed up."

My eyes never looked up as he walked away.

I slid down the wooden veneers of the cabinet drawers until I sat at their base, listening to the pounding of his steps grow fainter and farther from me. Soon, they were replaced with only my heartbeat, thudding in my chest like a hammer against hollow wood. The beats hurt and my cheek stung, the water in my eyes made it hard to swim back to shore, but I didn't care. The only thing I noticed was the words.

_You don't mean it._

'I let him cry on me.'

_You're selfish_.

'I don't want him to go.'

_You screwed up._

'I owe it to him. I owe it to him. I owe it to him.'

I never felt how wet my cheeks were until I opened my eyes an hour later and found Bakura kneeling in front of me, holding out a clean washcloth. Maybe he felt I learned my lesson, or maybe my crying was finally getting on his nerves. Most likely, he just wanted me to stop acting so pathetic. But for whatever reason, he was there, just inches away, holding out that clean cloth.

He was there for me.

The whole thing made me want to cry all over again.


	14. The Truth About a Lie

More backstory! Whoooo!

I always love writing about psychologically disturbed hotties. There's just something raw and vivacious about them that you can't find anywhere else.

And that's probably for a reason.....

This time, I own the crazy. Yeah, that's right, you heard me! I OWN IT. NOT YOU. ME. HA!

-Rin Reiko

------------------------------------------------

There was a time when he wasn't himself.

It was during the second year of our relationship, and not too long after his worst episode. Ishizu had decided to start him on a medication routine to see if that could possibly help with his condition, and the results had been, in clinical terms, effective. Anyone could see the difference in his behavior: the calmness seeping into his eyes, the anger fading away, the delusions lessening. The outbursts disappearing.

But no one saw that he was hiding.

No one except me.

"Ishizu, the medication's making it worse. He's not normal."

"Marik, the point of the medication is to help change his behavior," she explained, adjusting her reading glasses as we walked together down the asylum hall. "He's not 'normal' because he isn't unstable anymore. This is how he's supposed to be."

"You don't know that!" I hissed, cutting ahead to face her while walking backwards. She paused outside of a nearby door to listen to me, sighing a bit. "How do you know what he's supposed to be like?"

"Because the way he was before was damaging to him and almost everyone around him." Her fingers tapped on her arm as both of them rested, folded. "There are certain criteria for normality and abnormality that we fit into, and all this is doing is helping him get back to normal."

"But what if he was never meant to be normal?"

She stared at me in surprise, eyes concentrated in thought, before sighing to herself. "Marik, I know you have this perverse love affair going on with his psych-"

"-This isn't just about me!" I cried, a little too loudly. She shushed me and took me into the room on the other side of the door, closing it behind her. "This isn't just about me…" I continued. "I know that whoever this 'Ryou' person is now is definitely not Bakura. And that's wrong!"

"Ryou is his first name, Marik. And I think that embracing it is a good step for him," she replied, trying to calm me. "He calls you Marik after all."

"Only because I like to be called Marik. He's _never_ wanted anyone to call him Ryou, ever." I paused a moment, remembering. "Not even by his own parents."

"And that's unhealthy, don't you think?" she asked, coming over to me. "Bakura has a lot of natural defense mechanisms stemmed from past traumas and his upbringing, and those defenses make him go to great lengths to distance himself from people, even from people he's very close to." She placed a warm hand on my shoulder. "All this has done is help him get rid of some of those barriers, and let people in. Especially with you, Marik. He's been missing you a lot, and he's not afraid to show it now."

_He's been missing me?_

"Isn't that a good thing?"

I was silent after that. Something about Bakura telling others that he missed me, let alone that he cared about me, struck me as very, very wrong, even though it was technically right. Yes, I know he did. I always knew just what he felt for me, which is why we could have this sort of relationship. But one factor of that, one constant, was the nonchalant upper hand Bakura always kept while in the public eye. We never held hands on crowded streets, we never kissed in the rain, and we never ever called each other a couple when people asked. Those affections were saved for more intimate times, and we both liked it that way.

So now he was missing me?

"Ishizu, take him off of the medication."

"Marik, I can't do that." She frowned now, standing firm and in front of me.

"Yes you ca-"

"I _won't_ do that!" she clarified, folding her arms. "Bakura is finally making progress and soon will be able to hold a normal, functional life in society. If you love him so much, then why are you so willing to deny him that happiness?"

God, I wanted to punch something. _"Because this isn't what Bakura wants!!" _I shouted, frustrated at her lack of comprehension. "Bakura wants to be Bakura! And he's fine the way he is! I'm not denying him happiness… I'm saving him from hell!"

Her stare lasted forever, transcending the space between concern and pity, mixing it all in with confusion. I've never seen her stare so hard, for so long, at anyone before. I'm sure she'd never seen me like this either... and I knew what I looked like. But I also knew it was necessary.

Bakura would want me to save him.

"…. Has it.... Has it ever occurred to you…" she started slowly, choosing her words delicately. "That you've fallen in love with… the wrong side of him?"

I glanced at her accusingly. "Ryou is the wrong side of him."

"Ryou is the real side of him…" she continued, inching closer to calm me. "Bakura became Bakura many years ago…. but he was Ryou first. He's told us so himself… all about his life in England and how he was up until the ra-"

"-You don't know what you're talking about!" I snapped in my attempt to protect him. The real Bakura would never have told them anything about it. He barely told me about it…

"Marik, listen to yourself!" she pleaded, not knowing what else to do. "He told us himself. Ryou told us, and the first step to his recovery is to admit things like that… to realize that they happened and work through it-"

"Ryou told you? Ha! What a joke!" This was wrong. Very wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. "Ryou is a personality created by pills and lies. The only real account comes from Bakura, but you don't want to listen to him. You never have!"

"_Bakura is the one who's a lie, Marik!!" _she screamed, fists clenched at her sides. My eyes widened at that, stopping both of us for a good half minute. Her knuckles paled before she released her grip, the anger draining from her again as she raised her gaze to mine. "Bakura… is his lie."

_No, that's not true. _

"Bakura… is the one who needs to be tamed."

_That can't be true._

"And I'm trying to help him do that."

_You're lying!_

I scoffed at her, opening the door of the room to leave. "Don't bother," I added over my shoulder, taking a step out into the hall. "Bakura's too strong to disappear just like that, even with your help."

As I closed the door on her, I heard the faint voice in my heart speak up, against my will. I tried not listening, but the voice grew louder and louder, until it became the only thought in my head.

_What happens if you're wrong?_


	15. God Damn Him

Alright, kiddies! Let's get ready for the sex scene!!

So, here's the deal. This is rated MATURE, as you all should've known by now. But I'm still new to fanfiction's policies on smut and sexual content, and when I write a sex scene.... I write a SEX scene. This one here is even tame to my tastes. But I don't want to get banned from the site either, so let's come to an agreement. If you want to skip this scene because you're uncomfortable with it or whatever, I've made sure that not much plot is missed so you won't be totally out of the loop in later chapters. The end of the scene contains the only important dialogue and even then, it's just another peek into Marik and Bakura's relationship. Which I think is important, but it's not crucial, if you know what I mean.

If you do read it, and I hope you do, just know that there are genitals and penetration and gay sex mentioned, and be prepared. The only way fanfiction will even know about this is if anyone reports me, so pleeeeeeease heed these warnings and know your comfort level ahead of time, so no one gets crazy offended and feels the need to ban me.

Alright. That said, enjoy the sexy time! Which I own. I DEFININTELY own the sexy time....

-Rin Reiko

---------------------------------------------------

"Here… just lie down…" His voice and hands were soothing as they coaxed me to follow his orders, letting me flop onto our bed with a heavy heart. I'd washed my face of the tears, but the guilt still stained my mood, stubbornly clinging to my conscience like a batch of scar tissue. He could sense this, I knew, but I don't think he cared. After all, he'd been the one most upset with me.

And yet, here he was, straddling my hips and rubbing out the tension in my back.

"Mm…" As much as I felt a child for indulging in his undeserved attention, I cradled my head in my arms and let the touch wash over my sore muscles. Selfish… I knew he was right. A generous person would offer _him_ an apology massage, would call Kaiba-san and demand to be fired instead, and would make Joey the new chief mechanic and manager of the store. But no. I was too busy being concerned with my wants and needs to think like that. I was too busy being an asshole.

"Stop thinking." He instructed me, reading my mind like always. His fingers found a knot and dug into it with focused care. "You're too tense."

"Ah!... Mn… " It hurt wonderfully, and I buried my head into my arms, trying to let my paranoia go. It's not like I wanted to keep feeling like crap, I just couldn't help it. While my words may roll off his shoulders, his always stick in my head, worm their way into my thoughts and plant doubt over every security I have. As far as I know, he's the only one who can make me feel so guilty and so good at the same time.

I swear it's a curse.

"Marik, I told you to stop thinking." His palms were now rolling up and down my lower back, producing more muffled noises from me. "I can't help you if you don't relax."

"I'm relaxed…" I mumbled.

"Bullshit." He countered, fingers sliding under the edge of my pants and thumbs rubbing out the inside of my thighs, near my groin. I gasped, hips jerking at that, feeling that sudden surge of excitement and fear that only he can bring. His fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of my scrotum, I felt the warm breath on the nape of my neck travel up to my right ear, his exhaling growing louder and making me squirm.

"Ba… Bakura…. Th-at's not… a massage…" I tried, a weak attempt at protesting how much I really wanted his touch. Why I even voiced a complaint was beyond me, but things between us always seem to start with a feeble concern from my end, so I figured it must be subconscious tradition.

"You saying you don't want my massage? …" came his whispered line of fire, lips brushing my earlobe to tease me. I whimpered in response and his fingers took their cue to rub at the spot in between my genitals and rear, that hidden patch of skin that so very few men know how to touch correctly. But he does. Oh, God, he does….!

"Ah-… Ah!... " My hips started to rock faster against him, propped up on my elbows now. The bedspread was spinning in front of my eyes, half closed from the movement and pleasure coursing through my body via my groin. His other hand was down there now too, warm and pleasantly wet from coating it with his own saliva, pumping away at the shaft with familiar pressure and skill. Everything in me was screaming for him, even though the only sounds coming from my lips were a series of short moans, punctuated by heavy panting.

I could almost feel his smirk against the nape of my neck.

That's when his tongue slid into my ear for a taste, his fingertips ran themselves around the tip of my shaft, and his other hand gave my manhood one more squeeze of encouragement. Biting my lip with a yelp, I felt myself release into his hand, and past it onto the sheets, body shuddering as the orgasm hit and snaked its way through my system.

"O-Oh…. Oh…"

"Mm…" he replied, soiled hand sliding up to his lips to lick it clean. I couldn't see it, but I could hear the unmistakable sounds of his delight in tasting the sticky mess. As if I wasn't turned on enough already….

"Ba… Bakura…" I moaned, letting him in on my arousal. Event spent, he still made me go crazy. My back arched instinctively, hips rising further into him.

He slid down my pants and boxers fully on that note, reading my body language all too well. More saliva was added as he began work on opening me, not as hard of a task after so many nights of stretching, but still mandatory.

"Mm… seems spoiled little Marik wants another go…" he jaunted, an obvious grin in his voice. All I could do was whimper and squirm, too busy feeling his fingers to reply intelligently. The palm of his other hand ran up my back slowly, along the spine. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight…"

Thud. My heart fell gracefully to the base of my chest.

He was taunting me. I knew exactly why those words were chosen. And whether it was a fetish or not, the guilt it stirred only served to heighten my desire for him, creating a disturbing discord of emotions within me.

God damn him.

He widened me until I was ready, then proceeded to slide in, keeping my hips aligned with his hands on them. "A-ah!" I gasped, each inch causing a new wave of sensation to hit me, some familiar and comforting, others new and rare, from spots that haven't been hit in a long while. Or that I'd forgotten about.

He grunted in his approval as he rested fully inside of me, leaning over my frame as it stood on all fours. Both of us panting, he gave it a couple seconds before starting to rock, a little difficult now that the lubrication was waning. With each new thrust, I could feel us both grow harder and harder again, the synchronization driving me wild.

"B-Bakura!" I cried, foolishly at his mercy once more. The bed was creaking in its gentle way, providing a steady drumbeat to our dance as we neared the finale. All I could hear were his breaths and my moans, superimposed on top of each other to create the melody. As he shuddered and tensed into me, we both sang out loud and clear, our instruments harmonizing on the very last note.

"O-Ohh…!"

"M-Marik…" he panted at last, finishing with my name. A single kiss was planted on my cheek before he pulled out, quick but with some care, and rolled onto his side over the covers. Eyes closed, resting.

"Mnn!… ah…" I replied, wincing a little as he exited from me, still busy catching my breath. After a minute, I joined him on my side, facing his pale, peaceful features, the loose strands of his white hair falling across his nose and brow lazily. Reaching out, I brushed some back behind his ear, if only because I knew he wouldn't have the energy to protest.

This is the only time he ever comes close to vulnerable.

"Bakura?..." I whispered after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"… You were gentler tonight." His eyes fluttered open for a second, taking in my comment. "Why?"

"Why?" He repeated, trying out the question himself. Moments later, he looked at me. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You usually aren't." I pointed out.

"Hmph." His eyes closed again. "Well, I suppose that's because usually I'm your boyfriend, not your fiancé."

I surprised even myself by capturing him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Ah! Marik!" he coughed, having to re-adjust in my grip. "Geezus, not so tight, you crazy bastard!"

"I love you too, Bakura." I smiled into him, feeling him gradually accept and return my embrace. Whether it was out of embarrassment or actual affection, I didn't really care. He called himself my fiancé. He admitted it.

That's all the reassurance I need.


	16. Blondes and Broken Bonds

WOW. Ok first of all, so sorry about the long wait! I've been kinda crazy lately and couldn't find time to upload and edit stuff. But I'm rewarding your patience with a larger-than-usual chapter, so enjoy!

Second, thank you so much again to everyone who favorited and reviewed my story! It means so much to me!

Third, I just read this AMAZING south park fic that has completely convinced me you can post dirty, dirty smut under a mature warning and it's a-ok. This may mean naughtier installments to come (yeah, i shouldn't touch that joke) since I'm currently feeling like a failure in the graphic department. Dammit, it beat me with its kinky imagination! My honor must be redeemed!

On a side note, it's a lovely story and you all should read it if you're into Cartman/Kyle smut. It's called "Kyle in Chains" by DanniDinmont. Some damn good jealousy going on there from me.

Fourth, my chapter postings will probably become more and more drawn out since I'm nearing the end of what I've already written prior to posting, so writing new material means it'll definitely take me longer to upload everything. But I plan to make it worth your while, so hang in there!

Once again, thanks and love!

-Rin Reiko

* * *

Things in the shop the next morning were hell. No one really knew just what Joey and I talked to each other about in the privacy of the office, but they were all dying to catch any snippet of information they could on the matter. Naturally, this meant rumors were flying at light speed around the garage, being quickly hushed whenever Joey or I would pass by. You'd never think this sort of thing would be a problem among butch mechanics and tattooed automotive engineers.

On top of that, we were still scrambling like madmen to reassemble the unnecessary mess leftover from Kaiba-san's "visit", splitting the entire crew into teams in hopes of being more efficient. I spent the good part of the first two hours at work on the phone, informing our current clients that their projects would need to be delayed by a couple days, canceling and re-booking the delivery vans that were supposed to transport the finished bikes, and dealing with the emotional barrage of complaints that naturally followed all these changes. Needless to say, I now admire the patience of telemarketers.

And then there was Joey.

He hid it well, punching in on time and getting right to work on the bikes, not emitting anything more personal than a sigh of exhaustion or the occasional yawn. He even managed to crack a few, although very tame, jokes. But you could see it all in his eyes, if you looked for it. The brightness was unstable now, shifting all around his irises as if not exactly sure where it should stick. His smiles would all eventually falter back into a flat line and he'd scramble back to work to mask them. His voice was unmistakably dulled with pain, and his words were curt and impassive, existing only to serve one purpose. It didn't take a trained ear to sense all that was wrong in him.

And I couldn't tell whether to be frightened or depressed.

"Joey," I called, in the middle of tightening a bolt on one of the frames. "Can I get a double-open over here?"

"Yeah, sure." He checked his station and, finding nothing, headed over to the tool shelves for the wrench. Taking the current wrench into my mouth, I slid back under the bike, onto my back, to check for anything else that needed aligning on the frame.

Instead, I found myself looking up a pair of gorgeous female legs.

"Ah!- Ow!" I groaned, rubbing the part of my forehead that hit metal and sitting up again. Turning to tell her off, I frowned and opened my mouth.

"-Marik, I need to talk to you." came her voice instead, the familiar and dynamic tone of Joey's longtime girlfriend cutting me off. I easily recognized it now that I was no longer staring up a nameless skirt on my back.

"Mai?" I confirmed, seeing that it was indeed her standing in front of me, hands planted firmly on her hips. An honorary biker chick within her own rights, the half-American, half-Japanese bombshell had everything an 80's video vamp needed: stunning figure, long blonde hair, skimpy wardrobe, and enough attitude to burn a hole through the sun. Not to mention, she possessed a sharp mind and a porn-star quality name: Mai Valentine.

But it was strange to see her here on a Wednesday. She usually stopped by on Fridays or Tuesdays, since she had those days off. Whatever this was, it must really be important.

"Mai, what's going on?"

"Don't give me that crap." She snapped. "Follow me." As I stood, she nodded me into my own office, closing the door behind her most of the way once we were inside. Damn thing never did close completely right after the accident with the doorjamb. Arms folded, she stared me down with raised eyebrows and a serious expression.

"Marik, you need to get Joey's job back."

I sighed, knowing it wasn't a request. "Mai, it's not up to me." I explained. "Kaiba-san was the one who fired him, and he's at the very top of the food chain. If I go against him, he may shut down our entire department out here. Joey would _still_ be out of a job no matter which way I play it."

She calculated this, but her eyes never faltered from their course. Which was apparently straight into my corneas. Of course my answer didn't satisfy her, and I knew something dangerous was brewing under her wavy blonde locks. After a moment she gave a slight smirk, confirming my fears, which faded again as she spoke.

"Then you'll just have to be fired in his place."

Another sigh, this time followed by rubbing two fingers at my temple. "Mai, think about what you're saying," I coaxed, trying to be diplomatic. "You really think my leaving would make things any better? Not that Kaiba would even listen to our argume-"

"-Kaiba is a force we'll deal with after we decide our plan of action. And if you're not willing to negotiate for both of you to stay, then I say it's you who goes." She looked at me evenly. "Not anything personal, but I just happen to know that it was _you_ who switched the parts and it was _you_ he was going to fire. It's just that Joey decided to go and act all noble at the last minute..." A small scowl was evident on her lips, but only for a moment. "Marik," she continued. "You don't know how much he _lives_ for this job. Ever since last night he's been….. well, you've seen how he's been." She motioned to beyond the door, emphasizing her point. "I didn't even know he _could_ act this way…"

I knew she was right and ran a hand through my hair slowly, thinking on this. It all stemmed back to last night, to my selfishness. Why couldn't I just bring myself to do the right thing? I deserved to be fired, I knew that, but... but the reality of losing this job meant so many more complications that I wasn't willing to face. Unemployment, for instance…. uncertainty, more than anything else. And with Bakura's current state, more uncertainty is the last thing we need. I suppose that terrified me the most, facing Bakura's mental swings without any groundings of my own. I just couldn't do it.

"…. Why did he do it?"

I looked up at her as she said that, wondering if I heard her correctly. "Why did he do it...?" I repeated for clarity.

She sighed. "Why did he go and protect you? I just don't get it. And he wouldn't explain it to me, not fully." Arms folded again, she looked at the cluttered desktop in thought. "I mean, I understand that you're friends and you do those sorts of things for friends, but dammit, that's too much for him to give up! Even he knows that, I'm sure."

There was a long, tense silence between us. "I… I don't know why…" I finally piped up, answering her previous question. "And I don't know why I let him do it either… It's a terrible way for me to repay him…" I closed my eyes and rubbed them with a hand. "Kaiba-san was never supposed to hunt for mistakes. If I had known, I would've prevented all this…."

"Hmm," was her only response.

"…. I'll think it over, Mai." I promised, knowing I couldn't just sit back and be passive about this. "I don't want to see Joey this way either."

Her face brightened and she gave me a hug, producing a small, unseen wince from me as the sensation jolted down to my lower back for an instant. But I returned it, seeing no sense in being professional with the girlfriend of my best friend. "Thank you Marik," she added, parting at last. "I don't like getting into company business, but you understand this time, right?"

"Of course," I assured her. "Ha, my partner told me basically the same thing as you. I just…. needed another push in the right direction."

"What direction?"

We both jumped in shock at the third voice, coming from the re-opened office door. Of course, there was Joey, still dirty from work and with the wrench in hand, peering into the room at the two of us. "Mai?" he blinked, recognizing her. "W-What are you doing here? It's Wednesday!"

"Um…. Well…" she started, glancing at me briefly before smiling. "I was just saying hi! Same as I do every week."

"Yeah, but don't you have work on Wednesdays?" He came into the room and handed me the wrench, silently nodding hi before looking at her. "That's why you usually come in on your free days…"

"Ah, well I had errands to run anyway this morning, so I called in sick to my shift," she lied with a smile, her arms wrapping around his neck. "But I'm all done here, so I'm just gonna be on my way." Pecking his cheek, she parted and headed for the door.

"Ah! What? … Wait!" He grabbed her arm last minute and looked at me. "Marik, what were you talking about with her?"

"Huh?" I answered intelligently. She caught my eye with a very obvious expression of 'lie!' on her face. "Oh, nothing really important." I waved my hand to brush the tension off. "Just discussing the latest episode of that bounty hunter show and catching up. She followed me into the office because I forgot I had some paperwork left to fill out."

"…Oh." He concluded as she silently thanked me. "I thought it was something serious…"

"Nope!" She smiled and gave him another kiss on the cheek. "Now I gotta run, doll, but I'll see you later tonight ok? Bring some new movies if you got 'em."

"Kay."

And with that, she was gone, her heels clacking into soft silence at her departure. Joey and I stood there, as still as head stones, looking at each other in unsure thought. I wondered if he guessed anything, and I'm sure he wondered if I was hiding something. More importantly, I was wondering why this had to happen in the first place. After a minute, I just couldn't take it.

"Joey?"

"Uh- Yeah?" He woke himself up from our staring contest.

"…. Why did you lie to Kaiba-san?"

His eyes lowered at that, and he scratched the back of his neck while he looked around the office for an answer. "Ah…. thought you'd ask that eventually…"

"You didn't have to do it, Joey."

"I know, I know…" he agreed. "But I just…. well…. it's really… I just figured that I'd be the better casualty of the two. Didn't really expect him to fire anyone though…"

"The better casualty?"

He grew more nervous at that. "Uh… well… you know…" Finally looking at me, he lowered his arm again. "Since you have Bakura to look after…"

So it _was_ about dependents! I didn't know whether to feel outraged or touched. "Joey…" I replied calmly. "I don't need you risking your job for mine or Bakura's sake. I don't want anyone's charity, even-"

"-Ah!" he exclaimed, cutting me off. "You see, that's what I was worried you'd think! But Marik, it ain't charity! It's common sense!" He walked up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Look, it's not that I feel I should pity ya, or that you can't hold your own…. It's just that you need this job more than I do. Sure, I love it like crazy, but I can find a new one no problem. But you got no other income, and Bakura's a lot to handle…. If you got fired, it'd be a long time til you worked your way up to manager's salary again. And wouldn't it be hard to get by on anything lower?"

I placed a hand over my eyes, rubbing out the ache behind them. Dammit, both sides were right! I get fired, I'm screwed; I stay on, I make everybody mad! There's just no way to win! Finally, I sighed. "Fuck… you're right Joey. You're wrong, but you're right."

"Yeah, cuz that makes sense."

"Ugh, tell me about it," I groaned. "But you don't deserve to leave, Joey…"

"Hey, I can't help it if we work for a spoiled, rich prick." He shrugged, but with an obvious hint of bitterness in his voice. "Point is, you gotta let me go. I'll still come back and visit, anyway."

Slipping into a small smile, I hugged him with a pat on the back. "Yeah, you better. I'd go crazy if you didn't crack a joke or try to break something at least once a week."

"Ha!" he laughed, first time today. "Now I'll have more motivation to since you'll be competition…"

"Ah! I didn't even think of that!" I cried and shook his shoulders. "Don't you dare go sabotaging our work!"

He laughed again and pushed me off lightly. "Pssh, man I don't need to to make you look like a fool! You do that all on your own!"

"Take it back!"

"Never!"

As we wrestled our way out the door and back over to our stations, the old spark came alive in Joey's face again, and for a minute, I felt things were somehow going to be ok again. Perhaps I could talk to Kaiba. Perhaps I could help Bakura find some stable work. Perhaps Joey would fall in love with his new job all over again. Perhaps this was just fate's way of nudging us into happier directions.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.


	17. Finger Painting Nightmare

Short, but dramatic. I like it, though.

I own the drama.

-Rin Reiko

* * *

I came home to a wrecked apartment.

Most people would stare, shocked, and think 'robber'. I stood, nervous, and thought 'lover'. Everything about this scene carried Bakura's signature on it, and my rapid pulse was more out of concern than of fear.

Just a typical week for me.

"Bakura?..." I called, walking in and shutting the door behind me. He didn't seem to be in the living room, and I draped my jacket over the back of a chair numbly. The chaos in this part of the house was minimal, but I noticed the discarded shreds of cardboard and packing peanuts that littered the carpeted floor, strewn about under his frantic movements as he, no doubt, ripped it apart. They trailed into the kitchen and I knew I could count on one thing for sure.

Wherever he was, he had the eye.

There was no answer to my call, so I tried again. "Bakura??" I was in the kitchen now, still with no sight of him. I swear, if he left the apartment… Under me, some peanuts made their soft squeaks as I stepped on them.

But then I saw what really disturbed me.

Blood. Staining the linoleum in light streaks and smudges. Making its way across the rear of the kitchen and back into the hall, painting the walls with crimson fingerprints and hand swipes. Turning our small apartment into a child's finger painting nightmare.

"_Bakura!!!_"

I followed the red into the hall, past our bedrooms and into the bathroom, its door still open and streaked with the haunting hue. Stumbling back from my sprinting, my hand flew over my mouth as I found him there. "No! No no no!..." I knelt beside the tub and tried to find a sign of consciousness from him in vain, my instincts knowing better than my brain. "Bakura! C'mon, wake up! No no no, wake up!"

I had always been a hopeful man.

Propping him up carefully from his passed out position, I shed his torn-up shirt and looked over the damage. Cuts vertical along both forearms were present, a smaller horizontal line made close to the wrist to create an upside-down cross. Blood was smeared across most of his torso, even up to his neck and face from wayward fingerprints and other gestures he must have made. In the middle of his abdomen, a large ankh-shaped gash was carved, the eye of Ra in the center of the loop and staring at me on its side. Egyptian symbols were often a theme in his lapses, and I knew that this all had to do with that damn eye, still clutched in a bloody mess in his left palm.

My tears clouded the scene as I fumbled to find his pulse.

"H-Hello, 119?" I wavered, holding onto his faint heartbeat with my fingers, placing a bookmark over the very line to his existence, as my other hand shakily held my cell phone to my ear. "T-There's an emergency!... He… my fiancé… cut himself all over… he's passed out right now!... No… I just got home… my address?" Shit! I forgot my address! "Uh… 8-2-3 Domino City, Minami Ward, S-Sapporo, Hokkaido… under Ishtar-san and Bakura-san." Somehow, I managed to get all that out without breaking down.

Under me, Bakura suddenly coughed and jolted awake, his eyes flickering open from the pain and the sensation of nearly slipping into death. I gave out a strangled cry of relief and stroked the side of his face with a hand, trying to coax him back into consciousness. "Y-Yes… thank you… H-He just woke up!.. . Ok, soon? Yes, goodbye." I hung up and let the phone drop, cradling his face in my hands and kissing up his head, fresh tears falling down my own cheeks in waves.

"M-Marik?..." he asked weakly, almost surprised. I simply nodded and didn't stop. "Marik… you… "

"Shh…. Shhh..." I replied, in between kissing and crying. "D-Don't talk…"

He gave out a small whimper. "… It hurts…"

"I know… I know…" I let my forehead rest against his, still stroking the sides of his face in an effort to calm him. "It's ok…. I'm here now…"

"… Marik?"

"Y-Yes?"

"…. Kiss."

I parted a bit and looked at him, then understood and leaned over to kiss his lips. He kissed back with as much force as he could allow, and I compensated for the both of us. It was sloppy and sideways and desperate, the taste of iron mingling with the normal flavor of his mouth, but I didn't care. He wanted a kiss.

And I kissed him for dear life.


	18. And Now, A Word From Our Sociopath

OHMYGOD!!!! I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG!!!

*beats head against wall*

First, my computer died for a period of a couple months and it was absolute hell getting it to revive! I won't get into that though... too many tears were shed.

THEN I had to go and get writer's block! Of course. This chapter has been such a pain in the ASS to write! Grawr. There were so many things to say.... but I had to pick and choose which to say.... and then Bakura didn't help by being all sarcastic and snarky in my head.... Needless to say, it took a while but I'm FINALLY uploading it. This is the best that I could come up with. I thoroughly apologize if, for any reason, it doesn't satisfy.

On a happier note, THANK YOU SO SO MUCH for all your wonderful comments and favorites!! I'm glad so many people like this and I hope to keep up with the chapters, though I'm an easily distracted author. So many ideas!!.... But a huge thank you still for all my fans! ^ ^

With that said, this chapter is in Bakura's POV.... I know, scary right? It may very well be the only glimpse we get into his head about all this, so I told him to make it extra good..... which he thoroughly began to curse me out for. It was very abusive.

I STILL OWN NOTHING except for the socks on my feet and the few strands of sanity I have left. It's not much....

-Rin Reiko

_I remember the first time Marik took me for a ride._

_I held on tight to his waist while he wove us in between cars on the highway, through traffic downtown, around corners and under bridges. The world felt naked as it rushed passed, so close and so real, yet unable to reach us as we sped on in our blur of shape and sound. His smile spread from his face and into his soul, steering us through the movement of the road, feeling the push and pull of the earth against the tread on the wheels, knowing its every curve and sharing in the secrets of its momentum. His bliss was absolute, and filled up every crack in his being. _

_Blinding him to the nervous energy radiating from within me._

"I'm going to need him on an IV and respirator as soon as possible. Someone get me the update on his vitals, stat!"

"Have you got the syringe ready yet?"

"Please monitor his bleeding- someone monitor his bleeding!"

_It terrified me to see how beautiful he was. How such a rare side of him could only be found at the cost of my security. At my fear of riding alongside him on this sleek, mechanical, death trap of a vehicle. _

_But I didn't say a word, in case it marred the moment. _

"Bakura…. Bakura just hang in there…. I'm right here…."

"Sir…. Sir you can't follow him in at this point."

"No- but I have to! I have to be-"

"-Sir! Calm down! He'll be fine. You just have to wait."

"No… no I-"

"Sir!!"

_I think back a lot to that day, more than I ever care to admit, to how the danger for me was worth the joy I saw in him. It's the only time in our relationship that our roles were ever reversed. For once, he was putting me out of my element, taking control and leaving me to worry about our fate, without ever intending to do so. _

_I know, I know. I more than deserve it._

"Dammit, he keeps losing blood… Nurse, where's that IV??"

_Turns out, I don't like the taste of my own medicine._

"Clear!"

_But this memory pops up in my head whenever I slip back into my obsessions, or get into a fight with him, or think about us in terms of "us". It's not that I mean to make him doubt. Or hurt. Or worry. Or cry. Though most people seem to think I do. _

_Just as he wanted to share that ride with me, all I want is to share my life with him._

"Bakura!!!"

_So is it my fault that there are some unintended consequences to this?_

_Ishizu seems to think so, and I've come to hate her for it. I've seen the way she stares at me in Marik's presence, every uttered word dripping with the toxic venom of distrust and distaste. Thinking herself clever, I see she intends to let Marik figure me out on his own, in hopes that one day he'll come running back into her open arms, asking her to save him from the terrible mistake he's been living with for so long. It's a reaction most women possess when it comes to family, a sense of responsibility stronger than any mother's instinct or father's forbiddance, so I suppose we can't blame her for it. Once he's rid of me, there will no longer be a nightmare marring her perfect little family, and nothing to corrupt her younger brother as if he were already innocent to begin with. _

_It amazes me how fucked up some psychiatrists can be._

"Finally…. He's stable. Prepare the sutures…. "

_But thankfully, Marik knows better. He's always known what I'm about, and that's one of the many reasons I started going out with him. He knows I've never promised him stability. I've never promised him wealth, or selflessness, or a sense of control._

_I simply promised to love him._

"Bakura…"

_That is, assuming I know anything about love in the first place. _

_Pegasus once asked me about my feelings on this, one of the many times he dragged me away from my solitude and into his office, attempting to scold me yet again about my resistant behavior. Ishizu was, no doubt, behind his knowledge of my outbursts, but I, being the better man, didn't let on that I knew this. There's no point in reminding the staff about their alliances, especially when they work against you._

_It's just common sense._

_After an hour of worthless lecturing, the conversation somehow took an uncomfortable turn from my self-improvement goals to why I avoided talking about "love" and "affection" like the plague. _

"_Isn't that something for Ishizu-san's sessions?" I scoffed, arms folded to shut him out. My glare was directed to his eye patch over the right socket, comfortable in knowing it couldn't glare back at me. _

"_I suppose it sounds like something she'd want to know…" he mused, pursing his lips over a wine glass cradled thoughtfully in his hand. "I'm sure she'd find it enlightening to hear you define what 'love' means."_

"_And why the hell would I do that?"_

"_Oh Bakura-chan," he drawled, listlessly, swirling the shallow burgundy contents of the glass in a lazy circle. I hate when he calls me that. "Let's not be so defensive, pet." He placed a charming smile on his thin lips, as if to disarm me with some version of kindness. "I just want to know your definition of the word, is all. It's a simple academic inquiry." His one good eye lit up with the thrill of teasing me, and I could sense the mines being laid under my feet. _

_He's one of the few people I actually have to lie properly to. _

_Stranger than that, I realized my honest answer to that question took about three seconds to formulate, probably because it has always been present in my thoughts. The flashes of memory that surge and ricochet off each other at the very mention of the word form a constant loop of reminders and warnings that I've compiled from my years of dealing with that emotion, and I remember why it spells trouble. _

_To love means to lose. _

_And not just in the sense that you give in and give more, or that your view of reality becomes warped around the person, or even that you start doing things you never thought you'd be capable of doing before. It's the admittance of this love that's the problem, and admitting it is something I just don't do anymore. I think back to my mother and father, to the boy who stole my first time, to the way my foster families were replaced with hospital nurses and therapists. To the way I've managed to hold onto Marik for this long. It all proves this. Every single memory. _

_If the world knows I treasure something, they take it from me. With fire, with force, with syringes and medical harnesses and hours and hours of therapy. Life has done whatever it needs to keep my mouth shut about who or what I love. _

_Needless to say, I'm a fast learner. _

_But I couldn't explain this to Pegasus. Hell, I can't even explain it to Marik. Sometimes, that's the beauty of our relationship._

"_Hmph," I answered instead, not giving in an inch. "I'm not as simple as some bloody Webster's dictionary, Pegasus. If I had to explain what love is, then it wouldn't be love. In the meantime, you'll just have to do with whatever your Saturday night soaps proclaim love to be and infer the rest from memory."_

_His grip on the glass tightened and I smirked at the subtle nuance of his displeasure._

"We've got a steady pulse…."

_Granted, I'm a man of few words, and there is aggravation in that. But there's only one person I care to speak romantically to and he knows that I don't have to say a word to get my message across. He knows better than anyone just how much of a sacrifice it is to let him in, and how much risk I put myself in every day to be with him. I don't have to say anything to show him just how strong my feelings are. _

_He didn't have to say anything to show me just exactly what riding motorcycles does to him._

"Thank you, Nurse."

_But Ishizu chalks my reasoning up to 'abandonment issues', and marks it off with a pen on her prescription pad. Pegasus calls me tragic and makes an irksome habit of reminding me with his false pity. Marik…. I'm sure tolerates my behavior. After all, it's all he can do._

_I'm sure if he knew more about me, he'd change his mind on many things. He'd feel the speed of the air and hear the roar of the engine and want to stop the ride. He'd become afraid of the very road sprinting beneath him, wishing he could activate the emergency brake to stumble off and run as fast as possible away from this collision course I'm on._

_I'm sure he'd become just as scared of me as I am of bikes. _

_And I just can't allow that._


	19. Bridges Burning

Ok so... my computer seems to hate me.

I dunno what's going on with it, but when I uploaded this chapter, the formatting was aaaaall off. In very bad ways. Computer code everywhere.

So I'm gonna upload this anyway... see if it gets better once on the site. Though you guys may be getting several update alerts depending on how many times I need to repeat this process. Uggggh what a mess..

Regardless, here is the next chapter. More drama is mounting, and I'm steady getting out of my writer's block. Lol. We'll see how long that lasts.

Enjoy and thank you infinitely for all your comments and favorites!

-Rin Reiko

152 stitches.

1.5 pints of blood lost.

7 hours and counting since they last put him under.

At 6:15 in the morning, someone told me I should go home.

"Huh?" I looked up blankly, meeting her concerned tone with my vacant stare. Of course it was a nurse, one of the few working this particularly dead graveyard shift. She was young and polite and neatly kempt, true sympathy shining in her eyes as she coaxed me into attention. The smile was small, her eyes big, and her voice soft, so as not to alarm my emotions. She wanted me to leave, but didn't want to hurt my feelings.

Bitch.

I'd rather she have screamed at me.

Instead, I nodded, stood myself up and numbly made my way to the door. It had been hours since the doctors told me he'd be fine, that he was stable and sleeping while the IVs did their job and sustained his fluid levels, and it was then that they probably wanted me to leave. Surprising, they let me stay as long as they did.

But then again, I practically have a membership here.

The rising sunlight surprised me as my mental clock re-adjusted to reality outside the hospital doors. Granted, it wasn't very bright yet, but neither were my wits at this point. Details were becoming fuzzy…. Memories getting mixed up…. Days blurring together…. Made me wish I was suffering from a hangover instead of a nightmare.

Morning. That's right, I haven't slept. I haven't eaten.

I have work in three hours.

_I need coffee. _

The phone rang in my pocket as I ran a hand over my face, wiping off the fatigue to save for another moment. There were only two people who would ever call me at this hour in the morning, and one of them was currently recovering on a white-sheeted cot. I pressed the heel of one palm into my left eye and suppressed a groan as I answered the ringing plastic device.

"Hello, Ishizu."

"Marik, where the hell have you been?" she hissed, her voice cutting through the receiver with the same force as a chainsaw. "I kept calling last night, hoping that you were just out late, or asleep, or that you'd at least call me back, or something normal…. But of course! Why should I expect normal from you?"

I sighed. "Ishizu, I wasn't awar-"

"-Instead," she continued, in one of her self-righteous moods. "I have to make do with worrying about a call I got from your oh-so-loving boyfriend just hours before, who tells me that 'the rod has taken you away' and that I 'should be grateful that my brother is finally accepting his place in the order of greater plans', so I shouldn't be interfering!"

"He-"

"-Oh, and basically, that I should go fuck myself. You're lucky I didn't have the psych ward come pick him up right then and there!"

Another sigh, rubbing my brow. If only she'd give me a minute to explain…

"Fiancé."

"What?"

"Bakura's my fiancé now. Not my boyfriend."

I could picture her expression, the one she wears when she's trying desperately not to strangle someone. In this case, me. I'm always worried she'll strain something someday if she's not careful. Aggression is so unlike her, her body's just not trained to handle it properly. You have to build up your tolerance slowly or the muscle spasms will do you in. It's a simple law of mechanics.

"FIANCE- Ow!"

See? What did I tell you? I bet she hurt her jaw.

"_Fiancé?"_ she asked again after taking a moment, the shock still in her voice. "You _proposed_ to him?"

"I told you I would."

"Marik, this is no time to be foolish!" she warned, her argument gaining momentum once more. "Bakura has obviously relapsed again and I wouldn't be surprised if he was in some sort of injured state at the moment! Are you at the hospital? Is that where you were last night?"

"I'm on the street outside the hospital, if that counts."

"Dammit Marik! You can't keep playing this dangerous game!" I could tell she wanted to break something. "Whether you like it or not I'm your sister and I care about what happens to you! I won't have you die over something as stupid as-"

"-As what?" I cut in, the edge to my voice getting sharper. "As commitment? As romance? As love? Is that what you were going to say?"

"What? No!"

"Then what? Because if I'm not allowed to risk anything for my future husband, then what _am_ I allowed to risk it for?"

"I-…"

The blood was boiling now and I just couldn't stop myself. Didn't want to stop myself. It felt too damn good to just keep rolling.

"Oh, let me guess, my _job_, right?" I continued, blowing over her small noise of protest. "That's what you'd do, isn't it? That's the only acceptable thing in this world that you can act like a complete and utter fool for and people will still understand."

If sarcasm was acid, I'd be needing a new phone right now.

"So excuse me for thinking otherwise, oh mighty sister of psychological wisdom!" I finished, the bravado growing in my voice. "Forgive me for not thinking exactly like you!"

The phone was very silent for a moment.

I could hear her breathing sometimes, in between pauses.

My feet were still moving against the pavement, but I don't know why. I certainly wasn't telling them to do that.

My grip on the phone was airtight.

"You're… an asshole, Marik," she said, finally, letting me breathe. Oh, it felt so good to hear her say that. I wanted to thank her, but she kept talking. "And…I can't… keep trying to save an asshole. It's just not worth it." She shuddered a breath at that point, the lumps in her throat becoming more audible now. "You're…. not worth it…"

Just one more push, and I'd be free.

I had to hear more. I had to hear it.

So I went and lit the match.

"Oh yeah? So what am I worth?"

She didn't want to say it. Ohhh no, she didn't want to take my bait at all. I could see her pursed lips and head shaking 'no no no', trying to toss the hook back out from her mouth and onto the shore, far away from the pleasant sea she lived in. But it was lodged in deep, and I was pulling in the reel. Hard.

"Ishizu, what am I worth?"

More silence, her resistance jarring the fishing line between us. But I wasn't giving up. I was hungry for those words. I wanted that fish and I wanted it now.

"_Ishizu, what am I wo-" _

"_-Nothing!"_ she cried, caught between a shriek and a whisper, holding back tears of disappointment and frustration that she didn't want to release. "Not…. Not anymore… Nothing… if you're going to act like this."

The fire was burning nicely under the bridge now. Warming me up from the inside in a perverse way I'd never felt before. I was mean, I was rude, I was finally speaking my mind. And it felt fantastic.

"Nothing, huh?" I smiled, basking in the glow of these flames I'd set. "Well, that's just a little more than what you're worth to me."

The dial tone never sounded so good in all my life.


	20. Don't Be Stupid

HELLO ALL!  
I AM ALIIIIIVEEE!  
Oh Gosh oh Gosh oh Gosh... Where to begin?

First of all, I am SO SO SO SO SO SORRY that it's taken me this long to continue the story. TRUST ME, I AM NOWHERE NEAR DONE WITH IT. I PLAN TO FINISH SOMEDAY. It just may take a long time... like a year...

Or more...  
SHAME.

Second, the reason for this delay is a combination of life and strange writer's block. WHY DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG? THIS IS A JUICY CHAPTER. I SHOULD'VE JUST BEEN INSPIRED AND BLOWN THROUGH IT IN LIKE, A DAY. But noooo... took me... months... of agony. And perfectionism.

Sigh.  
Bakura, you sure didn't help. AGAIN.

Third, THANK YOU EVERYONE SO SO SO INCREDIBLY BEYOND MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT! You guys... *blush* Seriously. I'm sorry if I don't reply to anyone specifically, seeing as I tried once and... for some reason, fan fiction decided to be a bitch about it. Sooo yeah.

BUT I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I READ AND CHERISH EVERY SINGLE COMMENT AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR FAVORITING!  
I write this for you, as well as me.  
*hearts!*

So basically keep hanging in there! Progress is being made! I'm so glad you guys love this story as much as I do and I promise it will get finished! Thank you once again for all the support and comments are always appreciated!  
I GAVE YOU A SUPER LONG CLIMATIC CHAPTER AS A PRESENT! :D  
Love me?

Once again, title is kinda crap. I dunno. Also, it's in Bakura's POV again, in case that was confusing. I try not to switch too abruptly but, sometimes, Marik just don't know what goes on. Mm hm.  
Boy is clueless.  
But we love him.

I OWN NOTHING BUT THE TARDINESS.

-Rin Reiko

He'd forgotten just how good morphine felt.

After three days of it trickling slowly into his system, it was hard to keep his smile in its usual frown. He tried scowling but it just crept up into that languid pose again, content to be content with itself. What an absolute pain.

He hated when his body and his mind were at a disconnect.

It reminded him too much of his time as Ryo.

Ryo…

_Everyone liked you better as Ryo,…_

Shut up.

_Everyone wanted you to stay as Ryo…_

That's not true.

_People would love you more if you'd just be more like Ry-_

"SHUT UP!"

"Oh my…. that's certainly no way to treat a guest."

His ambiance was as unbearably snide as his speech, and Bakura wished this smile wouldn't so calmly invite the man in further. But, once again, all efforts proved futile.

"Oh…. You're here…" he grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching with every intent to scowl. "I should've known when I saw the rainbow outside in the middle of clear skies…" He hoped to God his sarcasm was working.

"Amusing as always, Bakura," came the bland reply as Pegasus strolled into the room and took his seat beside the bed. "I can see the morphine is working wonderfully."

"Hmph. Only in the pain department."

"I like the new attitude, though," he chuckled teasingly. "Makes you so pleasant to be around…. And you're absolutely adorable when you smil-"

"-Don't…. say it."

"Very well. I suppose you know what I'm here for."

"This isn't a relapse."

He laughed at that. "Isn't a relapse?…. Then what is it?"

"…."

Another laugh. "Oh…. C'mon, out with it. Don't be shy."

"…."

A smirk crept up onto his face now. "Or…. You don't really know, do you?"

He hissed, "I won't give you the pleasure of knowing!"

"Ooh…" he tsked, shaking his head ever so slightly. "How vague and disappointing. That's lazy even for you Bakura."

"Fuck you, I'm on morphine."

"Yes, you certainly are." Pegasus dusted off some invisible lint from his knee. "You've also been readmitted into my care."

A vengeful silence filled the room, the glare of one man meeting the calculating stare of the other, both wills trained in subtle combat. Bakura's smile was no longer so pleasantly lying across his face, but now twisted into a gruesome form of cheshire hatred, barely a smile at all.

_"What?"_

"You've been…" He dusted more tiny imperfections from his suit sleeve. "Readmitted…" A wetted finger now glided over one eyebrow to smooth it. "To my care." He finished with a pleasantly polite smile, just a hint of a smirk underneath the bland gesture. To any other eye, it would have seemed mocking at the most, a jab to take seriously, but nothing more than an annoying show of power. But as far as Bakura was concerned, it was a declaration of war.

Despite the morphine, he gritted his teeth in a low growl.

_Don't snap…. Don't snap…. Don't snap…._

Pagasus full-on smirked now. "Shall I repeat it in English for you?"

_"FUCKER!" _Tubes flying from his arm, he lunged at the man, managing to wrap his hands around Pegasus' lithe neck before he could pull away, fingers curling with all their might, ignoring the shooting pain from the gashes on his wrists. The choked coughs delighted him at first, but the older man would not give him satisfaction for long and quickly silenced himself, staring straight at him as two hands slowly worked to pry the fingers from his throat. As Bakura's grip refused to give an inch, Pegasus's face was beginning to strain, the red turning purple in his cheeks from holding himself together. At last, he managed to pull a hand up to his bangs and curtain them away from his eye patch, lifting it to show the glint of his gold eye inside the socket.

The gold eye… inside his socket….

Bakura's eyes widened and stared, a thousand thoughts and one pounding obsession churning behind his own two eyes, before realizing that his fingers had slipped and let his target stumble free, coughing and gasping for air despite his usually posh demeanor. But before Bakura could reclaim his dominance by getting out of bed, a surprisingly strong foot slammed its way into the middle of his ribcage, cracking something and knocking him back into the cot with a clamor of metal and painful cries. It was hard to breathe, hard to think as the room spun in a dizzying haze, but he pushed through it enough to see Pegasus making his deliberate way to the bedside, anger flashing upon his normally nonchalant features.

Swift hands pulled Bakura up by the collar of his hospital gown enough to bring them face-to-face. The albino coughed dryly and gurgled at the sudden rush of blood into his throat, knowing now that something was indeed broken. Pegasus didn't seem to mind, however, and far be it from him to care. Instead, he broke into a smile resembling that of Bakura's earlier morphine-induced glare, and tapped the gold eye lightly.

"Surprised, are we?" It was a pleasant tone for a far-from-pleasant conversation. "Ohhh that's right… you thought I gave you the eye already, didn't you?" Tsking accompanied more of Bakura's injured coughs, which he was trying his best to keep minimal. "Poor Bakura…. Doesn't even know what's really going on." He continued, voice hushing for effect. "Doesn't even know how to play the game he started. Oopsie…. guess you forgot just who you were PLAYING WITH!"

A sharp slap stung his left eye, the other hand still gripping his clothes to keep him firmly close to his attacker. It was getting harder and harder to keep himself from leaning into the man instead of standing firm, but he'd be damned if he was going to let that happen. He only hoped his body would cooperate long enough to do so.

"Let me explain something to you, my little _Bakura-chan_." The words rung with demure venom as Pegasus continued his painful humiliation. "Your life is not your own. Oh no. Your life is a series of other people's intents, all pushed together by a massive catalyst called fate. Resulting, of course, in your little screwed up world of shame." He tapped his nose mockingly at that. "But you've known that since day one, haven't you?"

Bakura only winced through his glare.

"Smart, brave Bakura. Figuring life's hard lessons out all on your own. Well, have you figured out you're nothing special?" This tone switched notes at that, pounding dangerously low on the octave scale of patience. He dropped Bakura sharply back down onto the bed, using pain to emphasize his point, and proceeded to lean over the struggling man, pinning him down this time with his presence. A force that few would believe a campy tyrant such as Pegasus had in him unless they witnessed it firsthand.

Not that anyone would ever want to.

"There is nothing about you that's likeable," He spat, gaining momentum as his polished façade began to give way to a more crazed animal beneath. Bakura could hear it snarling and snapping its teeth impatiently, waiting to relinquish all mannered control and bite into the first piece of meat available. "You've done nothing worth being proud of, and you're no different than any other fucked up case that's come waltzing through those double doors of mine. In fact, the only thing that paints you as any other shade of grey from the rest is your obsession with what you call 'Millenium Items'." He parted his hair again to show it flashing in his skull. "I'll give you that piece of creativity at least. But the rest…" He snapped dramatically. "You might as well be a ghost, Bakura. You make absolutely no dent in the world, and you know it. And the best part is? You think people actually care about you." His laughter was almost giddy at that. "When really…. really… the most they'll ever do is pity and use you. Because you're barely a person, Bakura-chan." The words became bullets at that point, every syllable locking onto a different target. Seeking to destroy. "You're damaged, and therefore, no one will ever take you seriously."

He tried his hardest not to think of anything to give weight to his words. Pegasus couldn't scare him. No, the scariest part had been when he announced Bakura's re-admitted status. Surely, the poufy villain had no more aces up his sleeve, just talk. That's why he decided to assault Bakura with this oh-so-dramatic speech. Well, there's no way he was going to let some flowery psycho with a hard-on for torture make him feel any more powerless than an infant without a bottle.

He could see Pegasus gearing up for round two, the snide smile opening itself for more chatter.

"But you want to know where you made your biggest mistake?"

_Enlighten me._

"I'll tell you. You let them find out. Once you're labeled, that's it. You're labeled for life. No amount of hand-holding or loving words will ever change that." Bakura wrinkled his nose in both pain and disgust as Pegasus leaned forward over the bed to grin at him, hand gently pressing down over the injured rib. Reflexively, he held his breath, if only to pause the searing pain that would inevitably snake its way through his nervous system. "And that's why you'll never beat me, Bakura. You're damaged and discovered. Me? I'm damaged and thriving." The hand pushed harder on the ribs, emitting a muffled grunt from Bakura. Which he was sure the platinum-haired man took as a sound of fear. "And even if you tell them all about this little chat…." The smirk was positively feline now. "No one will ever believe a word you breathe. Not that I'd let you talk to anyone worth mentioning it to, anyway…."

_That's it? That's the best you got? Well, how disappointing and vague, Pegasus.  
_

"Including, Marik."

The held breath escaped in a rush, the burning pain from his ribs strangling his body from the inside, leaving him to cough pathetically for a good, long moment. Pegasus broke into his trademark smile at the very sight, basking in Bakura's obvious display of weakness and panic. After a while, he removed his hand from the man's chest and let him finish gasping for air and relief unencumbered.

In the midst of his spluttering, Bakura could see Pegasus calmly inspecting a nail, and knew that he was pleased with himself for having struck the desired nerve.

_Damn him._

"W-Wasting… time with that…" He coughed, regaining his voice. "Ishizu-san knows that… mn… good therapy means seeing friends… and she'd be pestered by Marik to have him visit…" Somehow, he managed to look him in the eye. "One way… or another… she'd get him to see me."

Pegasus' laughter almost broke every window in the room.

Bakura winced again, knowing it was a long shot- practically had a 0% chance of convincing Pegasus of anything- but it was the better option of the two he had. Now… there was just one left… one he hoped he'd never have to use.

_Damn damn damn him!_

"You really don't get it, do you boy?" Pegasus drawled once his laughter had subsided. "I CONTROL Ishizu-san. I CONTROL who oversees you. And I CONTROL whatever happens to you while you're under my ca-"

"Fine."

The man blinked at that. "Fine?"

Bakura nodded numbly, sinking back into the bed with a grimace and another cough. "Yeah. Fine. Was only warning you that you'd be harassed…"

Pegasus didn't seem satisfied, however.

"Oh come now, Bakura. We all know how you feel about Marik-chan…"

"And how _do _I feel about him, Pegasus?" His voice was clearer now, having regained the ability to breathe. If only somewhat. But he was glad to see it shock the man for a few seconds. He was going to need every advantage possible to make this convincing. "This whole time you've been asking me what I feel for him, so now's your turn. How do I feel about Marik?"

A long pause divided them.

"Why it's obvious…" Pegasus started calmly. "You love him."

Normally, those three words would've made Bakura blanch and leap to strangle whoever uttered them, dispelling any doubt of the opposite with his violent counteraction. Lashing out to hide his feelings. It was just what everyone expected anyway, and he'd found over the years that living up to expectations was the surest way to crush any inklings anyone could have of something being wrong. But there was doubt in the man's voice, and Bakura had already been though so much physically.

"Sure, Pegasus," he sighed with a smirk.

"Well then Bakura, do be clearer and spell it out for me. Since you seem to hint otherwise." He was becoming impatient. Good.

_Time to get to work._

"I don't love him." He turned his head to face the man, letting his fatigue parade as a mask of calm honesty. "Truth is, the sex is really the only reason I stuck around. I'm sure you can understand that sentiment."

Pegasus just looked at him, slightly amused, but unconvinced.

"No really." He sat himself up in bed a little straighter, breath hitching in pain. "You think I know what love is anymore? Ha, even you know that's a long shot for someone like me. No I haven't felt that in a long, long time, and I can't help it if some pretty blonde man, who happens to be related to my psychiatrist, wants to love me and give me a place to stay." A conniving smirk lit up his paling face. "Even you'd jump at that offer."

His stare began to relax into a more questioning gaze, taking this in and churning it behind his one good eye.

_Keep it going. _

"So yeah, I'd miss the sex, but let's be real here. The most I feel towards Marik is pity. For not realizing that he was just being used the entire time, even though his sister tried her best to warn him." He chuckled a bit at that. "Man did she try hard, too."

Pegasus sat in strained silence.

_Reel it in._

"What?... Oh I see… You thought you had me pegged, didn't you?" He could feel his arrogance returning, steadily bringing the fire back into his speech. _Remember, keep it on low, Bakura. You don't want to torch him_. "Ha…. I wonder if Ishizu learned that from you, or you learned it from her. Either way you both never had a clue."

The expression turned sour.

_Lower…_

"Point is, I'm sick of playing that game. I've played them all my life and..." He let out a deep sigh, sinking back in to his bed as the flame went from low to simmer. "None of it ever matters. How you feel, how others feel, how I feel… ah, hell, you said it yourself. It doesn't matter how I feel. I'm practically a ghost…" He saw a flash of eyebrow movement on that note. "So alright. I'll tell you everything you want to know now. No gimmicks."

Pegasus pursed his lips in quiet thought.

"Provided you keep the Ishtars out of it."

"Interesting addendum…" The amused smile crept back across his face as he spoke, but with a slightly less insulting tone. "Considering your admitted stance on not loving Marik in the least…"

"Don't get me wrong- I may not love him, but it doesn't mean I can't realize a victim when I see one." He clarified without missing a beat. "Besides… I don't even want Ishizu-san involved. If I return to your care and cooperate, I want no contact with any of the Ishtars ever again. And I want Marik to be left completely out of the picture."

Pegasus continued his silent stare.

"You have my word, Pegasus." Bakura's brown eyes locked onto Pegasus' amber ones, drilling the point home. "Now I need yours."

_Almost…. Almost..._

"…. Alright, alright, you have my word," he admitted finally, breathing life into the silent room once again. Bakura tried not to show relief in his body language- a task becoming increasingly harder to perform. "But I don't like loose ends."

"So what are you telling me?"

"I will leave the Ishtars alone- for now. If they decide to interject on their own will then that's their prerogative." He dusted more invisible lint from his knee. The heartbeat in Bakura's chest was threatening to give his position away, but he kept firm through Pegasus' verdict. The silver-haired man caught his eye at that point. "But you are mine. Understood?"

Without hesitation, Bakura nodded.

A pleasantly unassuming smile broke across Pegasus' face, returning to his former self. "Glad we could have this little chat, Bakura-chan." He stood with the smallest of sounds, fixing the lapels on his maroon suit, adjusting one of his wayward locks. "They mean so much to me, you know."

"Of course, Pegasus."

"Hmm," was all the man uttered as he glanced back at his new pet. Bakura eyed him carefully as he stood to leave, so used to keeping everything contained it was beginning to solidify even his gaze. He hoped it wouldn't seem suspicious. But luckily, Pegasus simply returned a placid smile and tapped Bakura's ribs lightly with the end of his waking cane. Once the wince was produced, he whisked through the door as quietly as he came.

When Bakura was sure the man was out of earshot, he finally relaxed his body, producing a series of violent coughs and more blood to dislodge from his lung and into his mouth. _Fuck… _He tried to contain it in his hand, but to no avail. Scattered polka dots of crimson littered the off-white sheets as he doubled over, cringing through the pain.

He didn't even hear the footsteps.

However, the voice came through loud and clear.

"Bakura!"

_Fuck._

"M-Marik, don't-"

"_OhmyGod_ what happened? How did… no… don't tell me…" His hands and eyes were searching him all over for the damage. "The call button! Where's the call butto-?"

Bakura's hand stopped his and held it. "No… no don't…. not yet…"

Marik's body tensed and paused, looking at him fully now. "But-"

"Not yet…"

Marik nodded and reached out to stroke his cheek, still holding his other hand. He knew that he had to explain things before he was taken away… knew he had to warn him of the cold front coming…. knew he had to get medical attention.

But all he wanted to do was cry.

"B-Bakura?" The tone went from fear to disbelief, hushing instinctively.

"Mm?"

"Are… are you?..."

"Course not…" He replied, burying his face in the Egyptian's chest, producing a small nod from the man. Tanned arms wrapped around him in return, still mindful of the new injuries, a hand reaching up to stroke his hair soothingly.

"Don't be stupid."


	21. Dirty Socks Make Boats Rock

AND THE SLOW UPDATES CONTINUE!  
It's mostly due to my persistent perfectionism.  
Can never be satisfied...

But anyway. NEW CHAPTER, HUZZAH AND THREE CHEERS!  
I decided to give you all some fluffy smut to make up for the crazy sad cliffhanger. Sorries.  
But just warning you- it contains feet. Yeah. I know some people are oddly weirded out by that so I just thought I'd tell you ahead of time. In case. You know.  
FEET!

Also, they ARE speaking Japanese, but it's written all in English so you and I can understand it and because the story is in English. So that means Bakura IS saying his British-isms in Japanese, or the Japanese-equivalent, OR if there is no word or translation for it, in English. So just... insert whichever makes the most sense where needed. I have never learned Japanese officially so am only assuming how things would go with the language barriers based on my experience with other languages. And I'm also trying to keep the integrity of his personality from the show intact. Even though this is pretty much my own version of that.

Anyhoo, sorry for the long wait, thank you once again for the reviews and faves, and hope you enjoy!

I own the feet.

-Rin Reiko

Bakura always gets what he wants.

He may be forced to do a lot of things he'd rather not, but in the end, he always twists fate back into his favor. That's his charm, his angle, his talent. And I've never seen it fail.

Maybe that's the reason why I depend on it so much.

Depend on it, and fall for it.

Like that one day, three years ago. I had been courting Bakura for some time, all done subtly under my sister's ever-snooping nose. She sensed a lot of things, but couldn't concretely place them just yet. I was visiting her every week for lunches, parading as a good sibling with considerate intentions. Not to say I wasn't intending to spend time with her... it just was never my sole priority. For I knew that if I came by at 4:30, I would see him, just ending his session with her, leaving us with enough passing time to exchange a glance or smile.

But today, we spoke.

"_Ah, thank you Shizuo-san." Ishizu expressed to the security man as he entered the room from the hall. I was leaning against the opposite hallway wall, waiting for her to finish so I could catch another glimpse of those eyes. I hoped they'd smirk again in that way I liked. His expressions never failed stir new interests in me, and it was a pleasure I just couldn't quit. _

_That stare of his could drive me to do crazy things..._

_Which explains why, a second later, I found myself offering to wait with Bakura and the security guard while Ishizu took a quick trip to the ladies' room. A brief, hesitant glance was met with my offer before she decided to allow it and rush off down the hall. I'm sure she thought ten minutes couldn't possibly affect anyone's relationships in any kind of significant way. I'm sure she figured it safe to trust that her baby brother would let his reason preside over his hormones in matters of safety. I'm sure she had the hopeful thought that Bakura's real nature would present itself and that it would shock me back out of lust enough to screw my head on straight._

_I'm sure she kicks herself everyday for leaving us alone._

"_You're nothing like her."_

_I smirked and took a seat across from him. The one Ishizu usually takes. "How do you know that... Bakura, right?"_

"_Oh, forgotten my name already?" A smile countered the smirk._

"_Does it upset you?"_

"_Pains me." He was grinning now, and I took it all in. _

"_Tsk..." I chided, folding my hands under my chin. "Already so smitten?"_

"_Smitten... ah... good word..." he mused, matching my posture by leaning in further across the table. Casually, though, so as not to catch any attention from Shizuo-san posted by the doorway, only just out of sight, but far from out of earshot. Bakura continued on, with movements so slight, it would take a trained eye to notice them. Or a fixated one... "But no, I am not smitten."_

"_Then ...what are you?"_

_There it was. The flash of teeth and curve of lips that sent a certain tingle pulsating through my spine and straight between my thighs. To this day I still don't know why it does what it does to me. But there it was, and there I was, holding my breath as he replied in that wonderful accent of is._

"_Hungry."_

_I swear I almost fell out of my chair. Catching myself, my fingers threaded through each other to create a platform for my jaw. Probably to keep it from dropping to the table. Those eyes never left me as I recovered from my hormonal spasms, and the attention really didn't help. After several seconds, I returned the gaze. _

"_You're right..." I conceded. "That is more accurate."_

"_Just wanted to paint the correct picture, love." He said it to play up his British roots, but I knew it was more to tease me and my imagination. "Wouldn't want you getting the wrong idea." _

_It would be the first of many double meanings from him._

"_No." I smiled back. "We wouldn't want that." Our knees were softly brushing under the table, my denim against his cotton uniform._

"_Definitely nothing like her." I smiled more at that. "You sure you're really related?"_

_A laugh escaped my lips. "Oh we are. But she's not as bad as all that. You're just seeing one side of her."_

"_Shame." His leg slid further forward at that, rubbing against my calf. "If she was more like you, I'd probably be cooperative."_

"_That's quite a statement," I replied, letting my leg respond on its own. "You saying you're not cooperative already?"_

"_Oh, hardly. " A small chuckle rumbled in his throat. "In fact, if you hadn't been watching that first day, I wouldn't have returned so quietly."_

_My foot slid out of its shoe and made its way up his pant leg, sock remaining as the only barrier between us. There was a flash of surprise on his face before it transformed into pleasure, sliding his leg forward so I'd have better access. I could feel the hard muscle under soft skin, even through the fabric, and all it did was drive me to crave more. He was eager as well, I could tell, biting his lip occasionally as we held our positions. Remembering our conversation, I added, _

"_You wouldn't have? I really have that much influence on you?"_

"_Ah..." He smiled, suppressing some other reactions from our footplay. "Let's just say... I'm a sucker for blondes."_

_I grinned at that, foot still roaming. Leaning in closer on my elbows, I lowered my voice. "It's natural too."_

_A small moan was released, stifling it quickly in case the guard heard. His eyes glinted as he slid an arm under the table and caught my leg, bringing it up slowly til my foot was in his hand. I held a breath as I allowed this, heart beating from the rush. A faint voice in the back of my mind was chanting 'she could return, she could return, she could return', but it seemed to fade all too easily against the drumbeat in my chest. Strong, slender fingers traced their way from the top of my calf down to my ankle, over the pants, applying slight pressure along the way. I found my hands clutching the edge of the table for balance, trying to give him as much leg as possible without scooting back too obviously. This seemed to delight him as his mouth curved into another smirk, fingers trailing to the edge of the sock._

"_I like things natural..." He answered, sliding the end of it down slowly around the heel._

_I swallowed, "Is... your hair... natural?"_

_He nodded with a smile, thumb rubbing into my bare instep. I closed my eyes into it for a moment, enjoying the bare touch I'd been aching for. His fingers were chilly, but soft, despite the wear and tear they'd actually been through. His other hand was down there now as well, massaging into my calf under the pant leg. I noticed his eyes finally tore themselves from me to watch the door. Good thing too, because I was in no way paying attention to it. But every time my eyes would open to watch him, he'd return the gaze with a smile of his own._

_I was getting increasingly fed up with my pants._

"_So... Marik-sama..." His expression changed to impish at that. "What do you do for a living?"_

_I reeled for a moment from a particularly tender touch, hitting a sensitive part of my sole, before attempting to reply. "Mm... I fix bikes. Work... as a mechanic..." _

"_Ooh, mechanic. " He cooed, still testing out all my spots. "Must be good with your hands then..."_

_Not half as good as you... "Ha..." was all I replied. "Guess... you could say that..."_

"_In shape too..." I noticed his subtlety was waning as his arousal rose. Kind of cute, really. "You have those strong arms..."_

_I laughed, a mix of flattery and amusement. "I do, don't I? But then again, that's what happens when you adjust parts on your back all day."_

_Oh, I could tell he liked that. His grin was almost leaping off his face to dance around the room. "Well... I'm sure you're the best in the business. I'll have to see your work sometime."_

_I returned the grin, toes brushing against his bulge, producing a muffled sound from him. "I'd consider it an insult if you didn't."_

_He rubbed himself gently against my toes, fingers still playing with the muscle and underside of my foot. I sank them into the soft pouch underneath his hardening groin, like sinking them into wet, compact sand, and wished the table between us would disappear. As well as that clacking heel sound..._

_Clacking heel sound?_

_We both jolted upright at the realization, me banging the top of my knee on the underside of the desk. My sock came off in his hand but I made no move to retrieve it, jamming my foot back into my shoe bare. I noticed him pocket it as he sat straight again, fidgeting with himself to hide what we'd done. Taking his lead, I attempted to fix myself as well, resorting to tucking the sensitive mound further into my zipper area. We both winced in tortured unison, smiling at each other after._

_She entered with a silent glare at the both of us._

"_Ready to go... Marik?" Her voice was deliberate, knowing something had happened that she would not approve of, but unable to pinpoint exactly what it might be. I noticed she caught a wisp of a smile from Bakura and her eyes narrowed accordingly. He immediately self-corrected with a scowl, folding his arms across that broad chest of his, but the damage had already been done, and she turned to me with one of her famous looks._

"_Yes, nee-sama..." I smiled, more at Bakura than at her, rising from my seat. That seemed to perk his spirits right back up, returning it with a subtle curve of the mouth. Her fingernails tapped impatiently on her arm, fretting behind her calm posture at this exchange. Turning back to her now, I slid my hands in my pockets to create distracting bulges around the more incriminating one._

"_But first... I'll need to use to the restroom."_

He told me later that he kept the sock under his pillow, and would bring it out every time he needed to be reminded of my scent. At first, I was disgusted, nudging him with a cry of "ew!", but it really was the sweetest thing he'd ever revealed about his time away from me. That even my dirty sock could mean so much to him, and bring him comfort. I vowed that if he were ever separated from me again, I'd bring him any dirty thing of mine he wanted.

To which he replied, "Just your underwear will be fine."

As crude as that was, I know one thing is for certain:

He'll be getting those boxers if the time ever comes.


End file.
